She held me and
I held her.
Sometimes one of us would cry or
sometimes we'd fall asleep.
I'd mostly fall asleep to the
Sweet sound of her rhymic
Breath or
Her short but surely
sweet yawns.
I'm still wondering--
Am I the only friend that
she's let hold her
at night?

It just seems funny because
None of her other friends seem like the
Type who would do that
And I even asked one and they
looked at me like I was
crazy.

So, I guess my question is--
Why did she let me
hold her at night?
And why did she bother
To hold me back?
Is it just a special bond or
was it something more?

I guess I'm still hoping that
She mean't what she said when
she said she
Might feel the same
Way.

Written poems after poems
Published a book and sold poetry
A Poetry homepage read by many
Writing and sharing in Hello Poetry

Darling,
I just wish for a second you  would
turn the cover of my book and read
come to my homepage and see who reads
check Hello Poetry and look who's sharing what
my wish before i fall to sleep
and rest my pen
if i do not wake up again
to breathe another poetry
I wish... I just wish
that you would read our daughter's poetry
and forgive me
for teaching her what i love best
the art of writing.....

Roof-tops cannot see me
There are no windows there for curious eyes to peer through
And so I sit
With my dressing gown open
Slouching off each shoulder
Piled up in the crooks of my elbows

The street crawls into view
As I lean back to cool my skin on the wall
I hear a car approaching
But it approaches lazily
So I linger for a moment
Skin singing with the sudden chill tickling

Tiny yellow flowers
Across a driveway unknown to me
Call out to the sun
Confusing her for their mother
But the sun has gone now
Leaving pools of darkness under each needle in the pine trees
And sending shivers dancing across my bare back
Up my shoulders

stripes and spots can change..
growling inside

teasing a cat in a cage
even a small big cat
can prove a pretty hazardous thing

wait till it's free....


S T, 12 June 2013

I want to be gone

I want to be six feet under

I want a bullet through my head

and pills in my blood

I want slashed wrists 

streaking the tile

and a chair tipped over

so I can hang like a decoration

I want suicide

and suicide wants me.