were my thoughts
heard..
you’d blush at
the words
chosen to frame
my photo of
you..
always changing,
ever new.
could we imagine the
same moment?
would it dull the
experience?
all that mystery
and intrigue..
of what differs in
you from
me.
full weight upon
the pillow
eyes half open,
though she
snores,
in rhythm with
rain on
roof-
her dreams fog
up the
floor.
on the mind but
not in heart..
where it
best
be..
to truly
see
you for worthiness
you are-
beyond petty wants
and need.
send out the invites
to the clown
fight-
won’t be watching
that show,
for
reasons
undisclosed..
i must decline,
though you’ve offered
front row,
and cheap
wine.
dewdrops on
eyelids,
too luscious
to kiss,
rain drips from
hair tips,
a puddle of
bliss..
too deep to step
over-
so we slip
under.
turn it up, lay
it down
drink it up and
drown..
in sounds of
summer
on the breeze
of youth’s
lips,
driftin’ into a
hazy day
mix
windswept
hair..
and nary a
care-
’bout what others
see,
for she wears the
breeze
and her smile cuts
thru cold
with such
ease.
hard not to preach
when tired
minded
and loaded with nights of
non purpose,
full of sleepless,
in search of
respite
only to find it
in bite sized amounts,
better i let these
days go,
than keep
count.
said
you loved me,
i called that
bluff,
you just blushed
and gushed
more sweet
stuff,
said i loved
you,
and turned
away
as though it
was..
so hard to
say.
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.