embers of our fire
desire of life
the one who seems forgotten
stuck between a life of nothingwe were two beside none
one beside love
a dove and a crow
the words you thought nothing ofwe were, but always
transcended beyond galaxies
he who thought
one who foughtwe were insanity
a memory
the mistaken trouble
only but never
two men who couldn’t find ever
I told him I wrote a few poems about him and he just smiled. Little did he know I meant a few thousand.
I felt at home even though I knew he wasn’t home.
It’s bizarre and truly sad how connected yet disconnected this generation is.
i loved a man
with eyes of glass
dark like stance
warm chamber handshe spoke with grooves
flowed with you’s
held his own
yet followed youbeside his darkest
he dabbled
looked
crept upon
the bluesthis sky was graceful
but his mouth spoke hatred
tongue tied and suck in dazes
his ways, words
the way his wise spoke eights
strayed from sevens
as he lied in questionsthe world was always
while his seemed stuck in hallways
the corridors of even
and odd from hell
he loved his name
and the flame he thought he held
They told me not to write about him, but how do I write without a muse?
Love comes and goes, it grows and knows and when it knows, it knows. Just let it flow and all will come… or go.
You’re supposed to grow. Not be the same person you were a year, a month, a minute, two seconds ago.
There I sat
beside a grounded fence,
a shattered man.Torn to shreds,
ripped beneath.We lied in sheets,
hid beside concrete,
tackled the wall,
dreams and all.“I love you,”
I said.It could’ve been,
yet it couldn’t have.It was lust,
a triumph,
lobes that felt,
handles that caressed.His eyes said
as my heart meant.The bed
lied two,
yet one
beside none.Oh,
“I’ll always,”
I said.Atop
the loaded bed
that couldn’t say
yes.
Oh boy,
I did. I do.
I love.
You, him, her, them.
But most importantly,
me.
