she held my heart within cupped hands,
caressing its leathered, crimson skin.
with fingers soft & swift
she peeled it layer by layer
littering the ground with rose petals.  

she loved me,
no
she loved me not.

Navigating his way past screeching taxis,
Unperturbed pedestrians,
And vibrant street performers in the city,
A young boy scurries down the street,
Smiling ear to ear.
He extends his arms perpendicularly to his body,
Propelling his body left and right,
Pretending to be a jet plane.

He is meeting a girl today.
And not just any girl;
An angel.
At least that’s how he sees it.

In his left hand, the boy carries a rose.
Grown from love, it’s dashingly large;
A symbol of his exuberant feelings,
It’s a gift for the girl,
And an invitation to a first date.

In his pocket, the boy carries an iPod shuffle.
Giddy with optimism and bliss,
The boy’s heart skips to a romantic pop song.
He proudly waves his rose through the air as he moves.
Holding it like a microphone,
And not bothered by judgement,
He sings the lyrics to the song aloud.
He’s in love,
And he wants the whole world to know.

As he scuttles ever closer to their arranged meeting place,
The boy grips the rose tighter now,
Guarding it with his life.
He sinks into a daydream,
Thinking about her:
The way the sun amplified her splendid complexion,
The satisfying fluidity with which she would say his name,
And how she giggled as he pushed her back and forth on the swings.

Nearly out of breath, the boy arrives at the street corner.
He spots the girl immediately,
And a thrilling tension condenses in his chest.
The girl bestows him a smile,
But she looks agitated and in a hurry.
Unable to contain himself much longer,
The boy extends the rose out her,
Revealing to her not only the gift, but also his feelings.

“No thank you,” she says lucidly.

The boy’s smile fades and his cheeks turns pallid.
Though in a state of disbelief,
He accepts her verdict with civility.
The girl offers genuine condolences, but shows no signs of regret.
Covertly, the boy holds back his emotions and bids her farewell.
But as he walks away, he’s overcome by an unfamiliar, rankling feeling,
And his heart plummets like a raindrop falling from the sky.

As he wrestles with his grief,
The boy begins to weep and loses grasp of the rose.
It tumbles out of his hand,
Only to be violently stolen by the wind,
Sullied by the filth of the sidewalk,
And trampled by people passing by.

What is it like to know that someone truly cares?
What is it like to know your heart is safely theirs?*

Mutual affection is an eternal tease,
Intended to beguile a person to their knees.
Affection sedates a cold, agonizing end;
A bitter rejection which one cannot transcend.

Why must it be so difficult to find romance?
Why is the world so quick to deny one the chance?

The lonely ones zealously thirst for tomorrow,
Convinced that they can withstand the “fleeting” sorrow.
These spirits gallop to taste love’s succulent sip.
But shatter at the crack of reality’s whip.

How’d loneliness become a beast I could not tame?
How’d I become a victim of love’s vicious game?

A lingering heart can only dream for so long
Before it abandons its resolve to stay strong.
It withers while it drifts into acquiescence,
Lamenting over hope’s whispered evanescence

Like early morning dew,
Your peppy lips doth gleam
In sun-blessed scarlet hue,
To seize my heart’s esteem.  

Like a evening star
Your silvery eyes doth shine
Through space and time afar
In elegant design.

Though you adore me not,
Fidelity goes on.
My darling I cannot
Admit thy love is gone.

Though from thy heart I am expelled,
My love for you shall not be quelled.

Life is quite eccentric,
Its motives are arcane,
Storms may rage and sputter.
The sun may rise again.

Agony may perish.
Ecstasy may dwindle.
Days may last forever.
Time may lie or swindle.

Life’s but a dalliance;
A ripple on a wave.
All in life that’s certain
Is life cannot be saved.

Will you be encumbered on the day your life says goodnight?
Or will you melt in anguish as your soul takes final flight?

Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.

Loneliness, a carping vulture,
Hovers domineeringly over my shoulder
Like a judge presiding over a defendant,
Pecking at my skull ardently as if to call
The sleeping phantasms of my mind to order.  
What I am guilty of I cannot say,
Yet I am encapsulated by a dungeon
Where darkness engulfs me like a clammy sleep,
Rendering me senseless and numb.

In presence of my agony, the cynical bird
Assumes the role of conqueror,
Flapping its wings forcefully, walloping the gelid air
Right and left throughout the cell,  
Beleaguering my skin
And rattling my bones.

Oh how I long to extinguish this perpetual anguish.

Though on a rare occurrence,
A ribbon of sunshine stealthy slides
Through a crevice in the
Blistered board suffocating my window.
I rejoice,
Coddling it’s mellow benevolence.
But the light is retrieved by the bird’s
Watchful eyes.
It spreads its wings,
Swoops before my eyes,
And extinguishes the light,
Fueling the frigid, black
Night.

Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.

As pleasant chatter echoed from within the coffee shop
I lurched backward at the kick of a scorching cappuccino to my lips,
Clumsily sloshing a few spiteful drops onto the beechwood table.

Reaching sheepishly towards the nearest napkin,
My gaze fell inadvertently in the direction of a
Comely young woman sitting alone at a nearby table,
And I immediately became possessed by her presence.

My hands reached for my backpack in animation,
Fiddling with the zipper and unearthing a spiral notebook,
Flipping anxiously to a blank page on which to draw.
It became apparent that I discovered a muse.

With her hair hanging loosely in caramel curls,
The girl stared at her novel in placid fixation,
Delicately perusing each word in hopes of
Absorbing each ambiguous connotation.

My pencil scampered fervently while she flipped a page,
Dipped her little finger into her petite cup,
Mingling the whipped cream and murky coffee,  
And sampled her caffeine creation with a succinct sip.

Though I toiled with haste in fear that her attentive eyes might
Wander and spot me in my mad state of artistic enchantment,
I captured every angle and curvature of my subject in my notebook,  
Once finished, I could not help but be in awe of the masterpiece I’d created.

After a hearty slurp of my now tamed cappuccino,
I held my drawing up to compare it to my muse,
But to my astonishment, she had disappeared.
Dainty fingers tapped friskily on my shoulder.

“Well done,” the girl quipped, analyzing my work admiringly,
Then snatching the notebook from my quivering hands
And replacing it with a crumpled napkin on which she
Had scribbled down the digits of a telephone number.  

“See you this evening. Don’t be late!”

Bellowing trumpets call the palace to order and servants,
Dressed from head to toe in exquisite lace,
Promptly wave their lush palmetto leaves while the Pharaoh
Ambles domineeringly down the marble corridor.

Though the floor rattles at the cries of enemy soldiers
Penetrating the once impregnable palace walls,
The mighty Cleopatra, exuberant in both beauty and intelligence,
Maintains a powerful, dignified forbearance.

Immune to cowardly apprehension petrifying those surrounding her,
The Pharaoh relies on only her brooding heart to guide her.
Though her once opulent eyes scorch in melancholy,
They look onward toward the cynosure of her existence.

Clad in dense armor, Mark Antony clasps his sword resiliently,
Pacing nervously back and forth throughout his room
At the thought of the danger soon to overtake him.
His breath hangs heavy on the seaside air.

Antony’s complexion brightens at the sight of alluring lover,
And he releases his guard, opening his arms as she approaches.
Shouting erupts from the neighboring corridor
Though neither he nor Cleopatra discern the enveloping chaos.

As Roman soldiers zealously round the corner and overtake the lovers,
Waving their weapons high in hopes of slaughter,
The couple’s lips merge together as one,
Producing an everlasting bond that no sword could sever.

Blurred street lights cast a
hazy reflection on the
city sidewalk. Its glowing
particles gravitate to your
glossy trench coat, bounce,
then gently disperse. We stride
through waves of gelid wind but
in your aura I am warm & calm.

Your cheeks appear smooth like buttons,
& I, like a curious kitten, am eager to press
my paws against them. But I do not.
This is our first night we have walked together.

You were a shooting star,
short lived but spectacular.
A streak of guiding light
in an aimless night.

& in distant skies
I still see flashes.

Procure a pleasure so terrible;
A liking to great pain and fear.
Through this you will understand
How it feels at the end
To fall like the rain;
The mind condenses.
No way out
Screaming for
Night.

A ruthless tempest roars
Above my shoulder &
A lightning bolt shoots from
The sky in fractious rage.

The tears that trickle down
My face are mingling with
The raindrops, tumbling down
To feed the muddy ground.

I am angry.

In my bitter anguish.
I will not be silent;
I will not cry alone.
The Earth will share my pain.

I am the sun; I am
The rain; I am the wet;
I am the dry; I am
All forces of nature!

& tonight the Earth shall **shake!

Forever flows fast like a turbulent river,
Carving through each tomorrow with
A wild and ruthless expediency.

We are merely paper ships,
Flimsy and vulnerable in its
Tenacious waters.

Though some may stray off course
At the perpetual shift of the current,
Or crumple at the beleaguering
Of a ferocious wave,
Most will carry on.

But during some blessed moments,
When the breeze cools still
And the waves subside into placid ripples,
We may float tranquilly downstream,
At peace with our existence.

But alas, paper ships are
Cursed with a limited mortality.
Eventually we will each plummet
Silently into the murky depths of the river,
Casualties of its never ceasing flow.

In the midst of a waning Thursday afternoon,
I observed the outdoors from my cozy nook.
Birds serenaded each other from the treetops,
Flapping theirs wings,
Playing in the cordial breeze.
A handsome red robin took center stage,
Usurping the cynosure of the garden.
Gracefully, he sauntered to the edge of an evergreen limb,
Released an emphatic chirp, and slid into the sky,
Becoming airborne.
Free.

Meanwhile, I gazed at the clouds lethargically.
I was anchored to the land,
Indentured to books and worksheets.
I wished that I too could flap my wings,
Be hoisted into the air by the breeze,
And venture into the clouds.
But this I did not endeavor.

Unknowingly, I contracted my horizons,
Preoccupied by the useless facts and figures,
I was oblivious to the world outside of my abode.
While others lived their lives and spread their wings,
I fell behind.
They found joy in clouds, while I,
A flightless emu,
Buried my head in the sand.

I face the wall solemnly,
Hoping to hinder the
Perpetual stream of humdrum afternoons.
Sunlight sidles through curtain cracks,
Only to be shredded by the dark,
Gloom-encrusted walls.

I am confined to my dreary room,
Deprived of liveliness,
Bound to insipid repetition.  
Time moves ever so quickly,
Yet my life is standing still.
Deadlocked in stalemate.

Though my senses function adequately,
My heart beats factitiously.  
How ironic it is to be alive,
But not to be living.

I yearn to possess merriment,
Yet I sit idly alone
As a component of a drab,
Recurring cycle.

God, I wish I were in Colorado
Driving down a dusty rural highway,
Beholding colossal mountains
Emerging from the horizon,
And feeling the sunlight around me
Gradually turn into snow.

There, the air befuddles the mind,
Diverting thoughts,
Altering time.
The mountains form a fortress,
Serving as a refuge to lonely travelers;
A sanctuary of serenity;
A place where spirits soar with the eagles,
Dance in the crisp, motherly breeze,
And meditate in the dense forest.
Tension dissipates,
Gratification is gained,
And convalescence commences.

God, I wish I were in Colorado.

In the midst of a moonlit avenue,
You and I stumbled jovially across the pavement,
Giggling at each other’s absurd motions
Only to both tumble backwards.

With the evening’s beer still fresh on my lips,
I took a reckless dive at a kiss
But to my surprise you reacted with oblivious indifference,
As if my gesture was forgettable as an irksome breeze.

Instead, you reclined comfortably on the cement,
Letting your rippling hair flow in the caressing starlight,
And marveled at the celestial luminescence above us;
A million petite crystals dancing over our heads.

“One day you will find me waltzing with the stars,”
You said, rocking your head back and forth as if
Mystical ballroom music were playing in your mind.
“And I’ll shine like a lantern in the night sky.”

Perhaps it was a alcohol conjured vision,
But I could have sworn the pearls of your eyes
Glowed as the words glided off of your lips,
Ascending into the midnight sky.

I may have never known your name,
Or from where you came,
But I know your final destination.

When a shooting star streaks through space
Dabbing the night in a silvery melody,
I’d like to think that it is you,
Waltzing in ecstasy across the moonlit sky.

At the collision of day and night,
When twilight torches the sleepy sky,
Dying sunlight reclines over the horizon,
And demure darkness
Daintily descends,
She waits.

During evenings like these,
She journeys to the beach
And surveys the sea,
Eloping with the elements,
Exposing her skin and soul
To wandering winds.

As she stands there,
Vulnerable and pristine,
The tide tickles her toes
And she giggles at the call of
Whispering waves.
The fading sunlight flickers goodnight,
Dancing on the sea surface.
And then she remembers.

She is living for a memory;
Dying to fulfill a dream.

At night’s true nativity,
A latent force harvests
Emotions from within.
She extends her arms and
Alacrity overtakes her
In the form of a smile.
A tempest rushes through her,
Pitching her very being from within,
And conflating her spirit with the sea.
Together with the endearing waters,
She is complete;
She is free.

Memories, memories,
Demons destined to remind!
Memories, memories,
Extricate them from my mind!

Alas! They echo toward me
As ripples in the brain.
Evoked by love and roses
They prickle me insane.

Oh, I remember…

The hour summons a restless, withered afternoon
During which I succumbed to ravenous decay.
I desperately chased feelings like an unhinged loon,
Swifting through my pond in fear, panic, and dismay.

Impeccable beauty
& fanciful expectation:
I was thwarted by both.

Each summoned its own
Distinct, rolling shadow.

Oh I remember…

I was washed forth by whistling tides of tomorrow,
Clinging to a heart I could not own or borrow.
My feelings, whisked in transit, dizzied by the fray,
Yearned for second chances to conquer yesterday.

Gelid gloom would
Permeate my heart,
Tearing me apart.

Haunted by a feeling
I could not possess,
I drowned in
Darkness.

Oh I remember...

Loneliness was chronic; slowly it tapped time;
My life become a poem lacking voice and rhyme.
As silent afternoons would coalesce into years,
My dreams burst into smoke & hope thawed into tears.

Memories, memories,
Are nothing more than that.
Memories, memories,
****, ****, ****!

I do not wish to remember,
But dare not to forget
Moments that once plagued me:
Moments I regret.

No matter how strong be my will,
These memories will haunt me still.

**Oh how I wish not to remember...

Laboratory lights sizzle
In the presence of the
Midnight scientist.
Irate tinsels of electricity
Strike his apparatus,
And coerce the limp,
naked corpse outstretched
On his table
Back to life.

Contrary to the scientist’s
Great expectations,
The corpse wails at the
Discovery of his renaissance.
In a vehement tantrum,
He thrusts test tubes and beakers
Left and right,
Each shattering and leaving
Chromatic, flammable residues
On the sensitive floor.

“You FOOL. Do you not understand
That you have deprived me of HEAVEN
And its splendorous elation?
Do you not realize that you have wrestled me
From the benevolence of the angels
Only to reacquaint me with the
Wickedness of the earth?
No crime is greater than this cursed
Life you have bestowed upon me.”

“But Charles, I loved you like a brother!”

The laboratory lights sizzle
In the presence of
Smoke and inferno.
The walls recede into powder,
And blanket the deceased.
Both mangled corpses,
Reduced to smoldering bones,
Lie solidified with arms reaching
Toward Heaven
With jarring smiles on their faces.

O vehement artist,
What secrets do you keep?
In each splash and splatter,
What insights do you reap?

From your brush fall gentle
Droplets of Persian blue,
Riddling the papyrus
With a sumptuous clue.

Rivulets of color
Drift razzly down the page
Dancing with bravado
Like actors on a stage.

The murky, azure paint
Gives way to curious shapes,
Soon to evolve into
Soothing, luscious landscapes.

This humble masterpiece
Warrants credence in art.
For art’s a divine gift
To both the eyes and heart.

I’ve got a power in my fingertip.
****! I can disappear whenever I please.
All I have to do is to snap and strip,
Then I can travel anywhere with ease.

Invisibility can be quite fun.
In a way, I am a real life ghost.
I bet I could really mess with someone.
If they made me mad, trust me; they’d be toast.

My friends want me to exploit my powers.
“Hey Brad, why don’t you try stealing a car,
Or go spy on the girls in the showers?”
But I know that would be going too far.

I use my skill in a different way.
Sometimes, I’m randomly “absent” from class.
And just like that, I’m free for the day,
Relaxing in the park; just me and the grass.

Ever ridden a bus naked before?
I have, but nobody ever saw me.
Ever wanted to get out a chore?
I snap my fingers and ****! I am free.

Alright, you’ve heard enough of my bragging.
It gets kinda lonely being unseen.
To be honest, my morale is sagging.
I am the only invisible teen.

I dream that I’m not the only one.
If there were more out there, how would I know?
But then again, there are probably none.
Well, who knows? Maybe one day they will show.

It took 7 dates,
But it was worth the wait.

When it finally happened
I could have sworn
that I saw explosions from
synapses firing beneath
the surface of her
bewildered
eyes;

My lips brushed
against
hers,
pressed tightly,
then
narrowly withdrew.
Incense
tangy & alluring,
smothered the air
between us.
I could not breathe!
I did not need to.

“Take off your sandals,”
She said.
“Feel holy with me.”

The thunder of trumpets rattled the red sea of blood in my arteries.
A chorus of shouting thoughts compelled me closer to her.
I laid a hand on her cheek, & stroked the contour
of her torso with the other. I felt us trembling,
but in my arms the gentle ripples
from her skin dissipated & I
Drifted into calm.
Our walls had collapsed,
& in the clearing beyond the rubble
& melted silk heartstrings,
I found promised lands.

A feeling buried
beneath
spoonfuls
of time
pleads for resurrection.

It paces within
the confines of my
ribcage. So sweet
and horrifying it is
that it still lives on,
aged & twisted.

I wanted this
love to be
put down.
There was no
future for us
with me here
& her there.
We were in
different places,
in more ways
than one.

She begged me
not to do it.
“It will only hurt more later,”
I said with a grimace,
pulling the trigger.
My heart wept as
& my body shook
to the sound of
goodbye.

& so at a private funeral
I buried my love,
deep within me,
thinking it was dead.
But it were merely
wounded.

When it woke it howled.
Now it whispers.

I wonder if, across
the ocean, it is alive
within her as well. I
wonder if she wants me
to hold her as much as
I do.

I do not know
& may never.
All I can do is keep
shoveling spoonfuls
until one day
I drown out
the whispers.

a lustrous moon glossed in mist
shines on impatient lips longing to be kissed
while a thumping heart drowns in the dark,
weighted by a romance devoid of spark.

her heart is as restless as a dove,
starving for infatuation & love.
his heart is empty & cold,
living life only to grow old.

the hazy contour of slender hips  
dissipates as candlelight is extinguished by his lips;
her quick footsteps & the click of a door lock
are drowned by the steady ticking of a clock.

tonight she spreads her wings to fly,
eager for takeoff & sweet goodbye.
unchained, she is finally at ease.
abandoned, he shrinks to his knees.

He cries.
& so she flies...

The golden tremor that your
Prepossessing smile imbues
Strikes a chord in my veins,
Delivering a robust vibration
Throughout my body as if I
Were being played like a viola.

The exuberance renders a
Gentle melody from within
The chambers of my heart,
Amplified by the alluring
Flutter of your eyelashes and
Your mellifluous laughter.

Conducted by love’s affluent stroke,
The starstruck symphony within me
Plays on in diligent unity,
Basking in the shadow of your beauty,
Hoping that its tender song
Might delight your pristine ears.

6:00 PM
The songbird sang
As it always had,
Mellifluous and free
Up in the apple tree

9:00 PM
The cicadas shrieked
& the wind howled
As the setting sun
Drew blood from the twilight

12:00 AM
Shadows absorbed into the night
Lingered in a foggy patch,
Mingled with the gelid air
& muffled a shriek.

3:00 AM
There she lay,
Pristine as a summer’s day
Her soul swallowed by dark
& pattered by the rain

6:00 AM
The songbird sang
As it always had
Mellifluous and free
Up in the apple tree

That evening,
The irises of a lady’s eyes
Aroused the vastness of an ocean
& her pupils glistened
Like pearls beneath shallow,
Languid waters of crystalline blue;
Their lustrous nacre
Reflected the sparse rays
Of dwindling evening light
& swooned over the elegant
Procession of the stars above.

That evening,
The fractious mysteries
Of the universe withdrew
Their reticence & conferred
Their wisdom upon her;
Deep and troubling questions
Which once had lingered in
Her thoughts were burnt to cinders
By kisses from the flame of truth;
Memories found their meaning,
& rhymes found their reason.

That evening,*
Her once perpetual,
Merry exhalations
Mingled with the ocean air for
The final time as she
Became one with the night.
As she ascended into
The great unknown, she saw
Memories flash before her eyes.
For life is but a flash
Within the spectrum of eternity.

That evening,
She discovered so much
But paid the price of what she knew.

That evening,
She became nothing more
Than stardust.

*“For you were made of dust, & to dust you shall return.”

Underneath the swaying hickory tree,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though his song crumples in the sweltering
Southern breeze, he continues to strum
His guitar strings with a zealous passion,
Expelling each song lyric outward from the
Disconsolate depths of his mourning heart
In hopes that someone, somewhere will listen.

Within the confines of his cluttered garage,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though an irritated sister bangs violently
On the door, he continues to play unperturbed
As his three bumbling friends dance clumsily
To the crooked melody and his younger
Brother rolls on the grimy floor in uncontrollable
Laughter at the screech of a leaky note.

In the bustling, sullied streets of the city,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though passers by attempt to avoid eye contact,
Whipping out their sleek smartphones and burying
Their faces in their screens as they hurry past him,
He continues to penetrate their eardrums with his
Dissonant ballads, pausing only to collect pennies
Thrown in sympathy at his worn, weathered feet.

In the Marlboro stench of a crumbling nightclub,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though some customers, unsettled by the cheap alcohol flowing
Pugnaciously through their veins, heckle him relentlessly,
His guitar continues to erupt with an unapologetic
Persistence, rattling the stomachs of even the
Sober clients into a nauseous, drunken ailment.

And now, despite the aching calluses ingrained in his fingertips,
The bumps and bruises deriding his cherished instrument, and
The overbearing lights irradiating him from the high iron canopy,
He continues to pour each poignant lyric from within him, just as he
Has always done, Letting each of his fingers dance from
String to string, and every verse arouse into graceful takeoff.

As he reaches the final verse of his final song, he pauses abruptly,
And listens to melodious, emphatic voices
Reciting each lyric and bursting into jubilant applause.

In the limelight of a thousand adoring eyes,
He still plays that Gibson guitar!!!

Is ignorance truly the path to bliss?*

Walk the avenue of emptiness
& discover the strange meaning of peace.
When life fades into a soft monochrome,
A translucent, angelic mist of white
Descends like tinsels of lucid satin
Gliding from an opened window…

Blinding the soul?

Here the docile mind flutters like a snowflake
Guided by the gentle push of tepid winds,
Perfectly content to wallow in this
Incandescent void of thoughtlessness;
A realm that’s absent of philosophy;
A realm that’s absent of a direction.*

But at what cost?

Repudiate your dreams & beliefs;
Empty them from your mind & let them plummet
Out your ears as if they were violent
Rivulets cascading from a mountain
Crevice & lathering on jagged rocks
Below... do this and you will walk this road.

Is ignorance truly the path to bliss?
An existence without the joys of life?
Without the power of choice & thought?
Without clear individuality?

*It is a shame if so.

Here comes the sun.
The puddles have dried from underneath my eyes,
And the storm-clouds evaporated from my mind.
In earnest, I call for jubilation!
Convalescence at last!
But then I remember.
My fitful feelings are simply on furlough.
This is only the eye of the storm.
Knowing this, I brace myself,
Hoping of mitigating my inert emotions.
In haste, I foist my harrowing memories,
Banishing them to far-away corners of the mind.
I defend my self-esteem,
Behind impregnable walls and menacing guards.
A shelter to ignite hope.
Inside, I feel valiant.
For once, I am strong.
Alas, it’s all to no avail.
My attempts quelling the insurrection will prove useless.
The enemy attacks from the inside.
And so with a sigh, I’ll wave my white flag.
My fortress will crumble.
Hope will no longer burn.
The storm will engulf me once more.

Once winter dissipates into the ocean,
And spring’s benevolence swaddles New England,
I am lured to Boston Commons.
There, while reclining on a grassy incline,
I like to watch the pretty people pass me by.

Women,
With flowing hair and designer jeans,
Gracefully amble through the park.
While men,
Decked out in pompadours and plaid shorts,
Smile and give them the eyes.

On days like these, love’s glamour is on full display.
Two pretty people identify each other,  
Wink, nod, and then exchange telephone numbers.  
Within minutes,they become entangled in each other’s arms,
While seemingly a fanciful occurrence for some,
Relationships present themselves to pretty people with ease.

As I immerse myself in Boston’s spring animation,
Waiting impatiently for my love’s nativity,
I cannot help but envy the blessed few.
Sometimes I resent them,
But on days like today,
I respect them.
What it must feel like to have the world in your hands,
And to be among perpetual love.
What it must feel like to be truly alive.

The road is long and the days are short.  
Life consists of only so many miles.
Enjoy the ride while you still can.
Someday, you’ll run out of gasoline.

Life consists of only so many miles.
Take heed not to speed.
Someday, you’ll run out of gasoline.
Don’t let the rigorous journey discourage you.

Take heed not to speed.
Savor the curiosities that you behold.
Don’t let the rigorous journey discourage you.
Find the beauty in the bumps and turns.

Savor the curiosities that you behold.
Enjoy the ride while you still can.
Find the beauty in the bumps and turns.
The road is long and the days are short.

I’ve been cursed to watch the days wash away,
One by one,
Waiting for you.
The pain of relentless time turned my heart
Black.
Though encrusted in peppery ashes it still
Beats,
Never forgetting
What I am waiting for.

One autumn evening,
You and I will sit together,
Embracing the quiescence of the outdoors,
Reclining on a plush blanket,
Feeling the wind gently brush against our backs,
Content to languor peacefully,
As the sun dips under the horizon.
Runaway rays of light will illuminate your face,
And as you turn to look at me
The sparkle of your alluring eyes will
Spark effervescence in my heart,
And suddenly,
I will remember what I waited so long
To see.

Perhaps the waiting is just a punishment,
An atonement for sins
Of a past life.
Or perhaps my dream
Is just too beautiful
To share with just anyone,
Anyone but you.

Perhaps the lost hours
Will redeem themselves
And blossom into bliss.
Perhaps one must venture through
Hell
Before they can reach
Heaven.

Perhaps I’ll find you soon.

Until then,
I’ll soak myself in sweet reverie,
Watching the sun set,
And the night drape itself over the sky,
Like a curtain covering a stage,
Signaling the end of this act
Of my life,
And the start of something new;
Together with you.

It will be during moments like these,
In the shadow of the starlight,
When you’ll look me at endearingly
As I tenderly touch your cheek,
And pull you close to me,
When I will realize
The wait was worth it.