it has been one revolution
around the sun
since you became the sun

it has been four sweeps
of the seasons
since you became the seasons

it has been twelve months
of moons
since you became the moon

it has been without measure
since you became

I press my hand down,
Slowly, onto the surface
Taking in all of what I feel
A slow still, a polite chill

I think it's oak, maybe mangrove
Aged richly to a russet fade
I trace the grains,
Nothing to be unsee.

There's hints of umber
And a dash of pecan,
A smell so earthy, divine
Softly coated so nothing splinters

Lines trace the frame
Like a painter pieces a canvas
Swirled lines like calligraphy
A piece of art.

Living life
in passion?
I'll go further-
to live with defiance !

Life is hard
people are harder-
that's the crux
of the matter !

God answers the prayers
I don’t remember praying.
My prayers are just stepping
stones to a better reality.
If I die this year I’d feel that
way about my last prayer.
My bitterness will stop injecting
itself into my fantasies.
My butterflies grow obese
because of the magic.
I’ll keep trying to grow
past all of this tragic.
I’ll stop living everyday as if
it’s  already the future.
It makes my Time Machine
into a ready guillotine.
My depression and happiness
hug for the first time.
They have not been intimate
long enough it seems.

Free

Something I yearn to be
but fate won’t give me that
not even for a minute

I want to be free. Join me?

So take my hand
Come close to me let’s
Be free

Break the shackles
the weight
of this burden

Let’s be carefree
weightless
blameless
let’s be free

Free.
Just you and me let’s be
Free.

That mirror that remembers more than a face,

And all the memories you want to erase.

Even that tear and scar you forgot about,

And every time you had a doubt.

The mirror was called more than a few names,

Every time with inner shame.  



The mirror prays every day,

That one day maybe you both see the same.