Tuesday, March 30, 2010


It is not the moments of which have been lived,
but the moments that have been taken
It is not the love you so delicately embrace,
but the love that did not stay
It is not the memories cherished,
but the memories that never happened
It is not the truths you innocently told,
but the secrets you did not say
It is not the love you so freely give,
but the love you have not captured
It is not the lives of which you have touched,
but the lives standing alone each day
It is not the warmth of a sheltering home,
but the cold abandoned houses unadorned
It is not the triumphs so bravely taken,
but the times half-heartedly portrayed
It is not the choices easily made,
but the ones that are most difficult
It is not the decisions of yesterday,
but the actions of today
It is not the child smiling up at you,
but the one that went astray.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

love can hurt

does it hurt me more knowing,
knowing that you just want me to be happy?
the fact that you are willing to let me go?

does it hurt me more moving forward,
envisioning how i was always happiest with you?
that, perhaps, you truly do care and i have deceived you?

does it hurt me more looking back,
remembering those kisses?
the ones we give to another?

does it hurt me more now,
that i wish i could be with you?
 realizing, i will break his heart too?

Monday, March 22, 2010

Finding Home

somber day has come
reaching the height of potential
looking out to the vast spans
of an hour glass, run dry
seconds, minutes, hours and days
dissipated, sucked away
mounting the last heap of hope
looking down upon the mountain’s scope
the only way down…
a leap
into the stomach of fate,
limits spent
boundaries surpassed
humbled, you find your way…

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Lost Love

a lost love

is nothing but, a then love
a once before
a had been
always will be
kind of love

a lost love,
never dies
or needs
always there
in times of chance
breathing with you continuously

a lost love,
never leaves
seasons the years
passing beyond means
yet there is that constant

shared in a lost love,
spoken of which
other than
the actuality

Friday, March 12, 2010

At War

mutilated minds
devoid of emotion,
captivated today
seen on the wide-screen
of which the world enraptured
compounded and bound
to the atrocities of society
victim to thyself,
when media casts spite in the
glare of doubt
to the existence of good vs. evil
conspiracy derived,
society hidden inside
not of warmth and glee
but secluded, deep
to the satire of belief
no more the existence of mankind,
depleted the visions of hope
of which our land derived
falling privy to demands
of evil
when only one voice, is spoken
one voice, be heard
the world withdraws within
mankind, imploded.

wrote this a while ago...found it fitting to the....situation...

walk with me

walk with me a fraction,
a fraction of time here today
sun anew, skies sparkling blue
a stroll i must take
come along, hear my woes
a little serenade
listen to the melody
of pounding heartbreak,
eyes of deep sea blue
quiet they are not,
tears fall
glistening with wetness new
sorrowful heartstrings
pinker pink in tune
while fleshy roses
it’s here, this day
where the spring baby lay
that i tell my tale to you
the lonesome song
of yester-year
when i gave my heart away,
for you, my dear,
i wish it was
but nay, i dare say not.
come with me
walk a bit,
melancholy souls
of weeping trees sway
it’s there,
whispering secrets,
the ones i could not say.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

come back

both lost
both searching for the way,
persistent and struggling
to fill the hole of lost opportunities
busy, misguided, struggling
with irreparable damages
would it be possible,
we both reach out simultaneously
and find the other there
as we languidly seek refuge
falling back into the comfortable pretense
of our existence

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The Widow

wind cracking the window pane,
alone inside, the widower
staring back, her reflection
darkened the night outside her window
howling gusts bring forth a shiver
a single light flickers,
that of her own
blazed, enlightened
day and night
she is frightened
the rage of which she rid of
dwindled down,
the embers exist
burning still the pain
what once there was,
still there to scold her
abandoned, abused
hands blood stained…

his spirit taunts her

Monday, March 1, 2010

A Letter

Dear Pride,

What a stubborn bitch You are!
time and again, You always win
times of need, shelter, protection,
Plain old asking for help,
You always step in
Controlling the situation
a masochist of sorts, You are
I wish, today, I could say I love you,
even appreciate you just a little,
But there You are
beaming with gratification,
when, once again, You have taken over
well, I, the being of my whole
am left, wondering….
What now? What now?