Bright spring
But a pale shadow flicks
Behind my
Back

It reaches for
my hand

Grasps tightly,
like memory
Whispers,
sweet nothings

“Oh, \my beloved,
how I-
miss you”

Delusion, only a breeze,
Yet pitched so familiar
In tone

And my heart’s resolve
Falls through
like water
And I cannot help but

recall past summer’

Look outside,
Is it snow or
summer’s eyes?
Fate plays
gossamer lies,
Yet I’ll try,
If not in this one,
find you in every life.

Pinching myself is
Not enough for me right now
I need to see blood

“Hey…
You don’t have to be strong right now.
You’ve done enough.
You’ve been enough.
It’s okay to rest.
I’ve got you.
Let go of the ache, just for tonight.
You are safe.
You are loved — more than you know.
Close your eyes now,
and let the world wait.
I’ll stay right here
until you fall asleep.”

I love you.
You love me.
So why does silence
stand between us
like a wall neither of us dares to touch?

Why can't we say it—
out loud,
clear,
honest?

Is it fear?
Timing?
Or the quiet belief
that if we speak it,
we might lose
what we're too afraid to reach for?

We carry love
like a secret
burning quietly
beneath the surface.

Empty
If you respect me, don’t caress me. Dissect me, and if you love it represent me.
I feel empty.
These lines I’m injecting of rhymes I’m perfecting define my repenting.
I feel empty.
I’m trapped in my mind, but no longer trapped when I rhyme. I can see all the flaws and the rawness in these times;
I feel empty.
You saturate my soul with passion and care, and defend me even In ignominious affairs.
You fill me up.
With joy and strength, and aspirations and ambition. You fill me with fervor and taste, and take away my inhibition.
You make me Ray.

Our hearts are hot plastic
They morph they're elastic
Our lips are sporadic
Like actions of addicts
And you are my habit
I can't stop from having

Your spring unwinds still
in bold flits like mourning cloaks
bright marigold wings
into abyss, you call out
Star yet stirred to shadows