I miss some of you
I miss the first date you
With sweaty hands
And nervous laughter
I miss the are you cold? you
Your comfy coat that smells like you
And arm around my shoulder
I miss the prom night you
With your unshaking gaze
And dancing all night
I miss the mission trip you
The ever praising, ever loving
God gave me you you
I miss the lets take a walk you
With the honest talks and
Tears from both of our eyes
I miss the lake picnic you
The only you that I could open up to you
The let’s wear pajamas and funny hats to the movie theatre you
The  drive my jeep you
The poem writing you
The hand holding you
The hugging you
The nose kisses you
And the honest you
I miss some of you
I miss what I thought of you
But if I had known
The honest you was not an honest you
And the I love you repeating
Over and over you
Were not true
Maybe I would miss all of you

But what happened
I repeat
to the feeling of
loss
that eats at me now

In this little foreign town I sit
by accident
across from a hotel
where we once stayed

And my heart strings
strike a chord
with unbearable tension

It was so good
wasn't it?
And then I remember
I couldn't be your lover
I was only part way there
most of the time

I fantasized
about not being yours
the freedoms of aloneness
a breath without your scent

How many years I spent
wishing
to have what sits before me
These broken strings
This broken heart
The greatest broken promise

I recall a moment
when the woman
with the great jazz voice
asked me
if I loved him
and I couldn't answer
Even though I know
in some fractured universe
an unshaking love
existed

How many nights
I was tortured
with the shame of knowing
that the love you needed most
was conditional

And for how many years
you sat
in suffocating silence
knowing that to be true
and sacrificing your soul
that it wouldn't be so

In my attempt to shield you
from the pain
I harmed you beyond belief
And now we are
left
with no other choice
but to say goodbye
to the life we had together

In the end
I guess
I just miss my friend

From a ripple to the roar,
Of desires and desperations,
Hopes and aspirations.
With songs unsung, memories unseen,
Moves undanced, sights unblinked.
They riddle through a riling heart,
Languishing the clod of infinte memories,
Leaving behind a trail in oxblood,
On lanes of the suffering they imprint,
Never-failing pillars,
A Niagara of ambition,
Struggling and chasing,
The ring road of passion.

In this passage of arms,
The wants and these cries,
Shall put up a fight,
The first of its kind.
Moving every mountain,
Warming stiff snow,
Freezing the unforgiving fire,
Chocking the unmoving souls.
With a focus down unshaking roads,
They shall create a nexus,
With the nimbus, the whole universe,
To provoke the storms,
The thunder and the tides,
To hold their arms, to stay on their side,
In this endless unfailing ride.

With the mantra of victory,
And horse-like sight,
They come marching to lead you,
Down this one one life.
But in this march of time,
Through the years that crawl by,
Every road that you take,
Clinging onto dreams you've always dreamt,
Shall engulf a mist--
Some cocainic smoke,
That sting your eyes as they behold,
Your graceless retreat,
From closing doors.
Those million desires,
From burning heartaches,
Shall freeze and founder,
Fall and break.

Only leaves of paper,
Made by a dry-eyed stranger,
Doping human wants--
Most passionate minds.
Rendering them coarse and dud,
Cloudy and undone.
These leaves, they decide it all.
Your breaths, your wants,
The heartbeats, your wish grants---
The forest,
The ones who have most,
Shall foreshadow,
They can foretell,
The end of the roads they choose to take.
And those who have fragments,
A passive flow,
They know not where this journey,
Will allow them to go.
And yet they fight!
They give up their all!
But alas!
In this clientele of cliche,
Will breathe a cradle--
Will live the neverness of the niche,
That bears, where blooms,
From a dying ripple, to the fading roar,
Of desires and desperations,
Hopes and aspirations.
That will not live,
Oh! They die so slow...
As the pillars fall,
The Niagara runs cold.

Home is where the heart is they say
My heart is with
Him.
Again.
Him.
When I’m with
I feel at home.
Safe.
When our hands are together I feel safe.
At home.
His eyes are home, pools of brown.
In his arms a sense of security
Protection.
His love firm and solid, unshaking
Steady.
His lips perfect, carving perfect lies
I believed.
His mind, cunning master manipulator
Me falling for it.
Like the vicious cycle that love is
I took him back.
Forgetting the torture, seeing the love
Putting myself though that emotional roller coaster.
And now I’m a wreckage. Fearful and paranoid.
How one bad egg spoils the cake.
6 years.
I don’t trust that guy, the one who said I was pretty.
I was fine. Then. I saw. _
Him.
Beautiful in sunlight. Smile masking his loss.
Me.
I was his muse and he lost me.
Wrecked me.
Destroyed me and left me picking then pieces of myself blinded by the illusion of love.
And so he sees me and comes to me.
Staring im unable to move.
Stuck in his trance
And so he hugs me.
And I feel back
Safe at home.

The claims we have
are like chains.
A dictation to
never walk away.

Because we possess
and we preserve,
and to lose the best
is completely absurd.

Jealousy is only a symptom
of the hands that will not unclasp.
It is a side effect
that we work past.

It is a gentle nudge
to not squeeze too tight;
readjust the sight,
bring what's right to light.

The unshaking foundation
does not like to be touched
it is harmless, we know
but it feels like too much.

It says "leave me alone"
I've been through far too much
to risk any small cracks,
or leave this loss to luck.

But the truth is, it knows
that when all the world falls
it will still stand upright
mortar not chipped at all.

We stand tall.
Only together will we ever fall.