meet at 6 pm
at the sunset glow
crossing between
the day and the night
till broaden
the perspective
of its landscape
shading the sky
more of a blue,
as it warm by the moon
in light to shine.

and i miss you like this
smiling and remembering
those memories
late night on my time
day time in your place
that's how it all started.

tik tok tik,
times too long
works too many
love too less.

tik tok tik,
its already two thirty
a few more hours
you'll soon be free.

tik tok tik,
Did the clock stopped ticking?
Times taking so long,
I'm stressed, bored.

Tik toc tik toc tik!!!
common hurry!
I miss my bed.

Tik toc tik,
time check its two thirty eight.
Tik toc tik,
times too long.

hey there lost friend,
are you well ?
Are you okay now? no pretense,
are you still trapped inside hell ?

Hey there guess what,
my minds full of you now, my heart beats won't stop.
In my dreams or waking hours
your words ,your gestures, you're YOU makes me cower!

Hey look, can't you tell
my pillows are abused now, my bed is a mess.
In dreams we are happy,
in dreams you are well, I wish soon I'll see you,
but sooner means death.

Hey there lost friend, are you well?
If I ask, don't ask back, well my tears won't hold up
I might do the unthinkable, I might hug mister death.

Hey, its just hey.
no more words, just say hey
I might feel better , I might say I'm well.
I really miss you though, hey!? are you there.

She stuffs all the bad things
into a closet
and then hides the key
after she locks it.
Her face turns all red
when I ask what's inside.
She screams out her lungs
and yells "everything's fine!"
So I rattle the door as to
blow out the hinges.
And when I glimpse inside,
she thrashes and cringes,
"we don't need to talk
about our past no more.
Will you just go sit down,
will you please close the door?"

My boat is my vessel,
with poets flag
blowing in the wind.

The open sea
my playground,
where words
gracefully move
on wavelets ready to ride.

Fish gather
with eyes like periods.
Seaweed drifts
as if pen green
gently brushing page.

Phases become mist
on deck
as self feels
the moisture of visions.

And on a quiet night,
when lighthouse in heart
guides poem to conclusion,
the wind carries self
to the dock of dreams.