I go through your page

over and over

And it makes me feel

Like you're here

i miss you

But all i have is your page

And sometimes your voice

from far away

I don't get to touch you

No hugs can be given

I don't get to see you

All i have is pictures

on your page

So when I miss you

I read your poems

And I remember you

*I'm going to go look at your page

I want to write

But i can think of nothing

...............

I want to cry

But i can feel no sorrow

...............

I want to sing

But i can hear no melody

...............

I want to dance

But i can feel no rhythm

...............

I want to know

But i can know no certainty

...............

I want to write

But i can think of nothing

she seems like a saint in my dark moments
as she graces me with her gentle smile
because her nomadic heart came to rest for
a butterfly's moment within my grasp
and with noble intent i heart and soul to her attentions
so she unsticks my head
with her own road of good intentions

she is tender in my wilderness
placing small acts of cataclysm in my path
to dislodge my mud filled head
and with her devices nailed to my mind
it is easier to think so i think

so with her delighted mind she tinkers
with my comfort zone
trying to find the greasy spoon
that i eat my metaphysical meals with
leaves me hungry for words
when it comes time to put pen to paper

my head full of mud
grapple with the notions of her divinity
but the weight of thinking too much
keeps me from doing freestyle take to wing
so it is me that must unstick
from her influences
and her rubber band heart
that keeps bouncing back