not a poem, but a poem

Untitled. it is pay-backtime,time in which the days were good,of remembering the fun,the laughter we shared,caffeine we used to downtogether,all yours nowand where I am left alone,a string of insecuritesaccompany my solace. it used to bethat I could say it allthrough words,hands entwined,eyes interlockedduring days of ‘reality’,not endless dreamsor being forever awake. I’m returning it …

Poem 77

poem is based on a story I’m developing. possibly bcb. or possibly the story of the Allens? where the flowers bloom… there are dreams. their dreams. she is graceful, truly unbelievable from her dance to her utterance. I see myself spinning underneath the gazes of brown eyes. I know the feeling of her hands, rough …

Poem 60

  Untitled if moments could define us… I would be the tilted sun and she the other me across the sea, the shimmering moon. memories hinder me from forgetting and laughters remind me of how it’s never night here anymore. even with the passing of time her voice still remains whispering beside me and what …