Foolish Romantic
Burn Your Polaroids
For The Hopes Held There
Have Become Void.
Hold Out Your Hands
To Receive Your Sight
Can't You See
You've Been Robbed Blind?
Just A Kid Caught In The Cookie Jar
You Stand On Tip Toes
"Reach For The Stars"?

...

Foolish Romantic
Put Away Your Pen
Freedom Is Fool's Talk
Revolution- A Sin
And Lips Laced With Leftover Listerine?
Darling, Love Comes With Bad Breath
And The Smell Of Bodies
You Hope It Feels Like When Worlds Collide
But There's Pain In Tomorrow
Want For Naught But The Night.

(July 13, 2008)

My pen is like a candle
Always waiting to ignite
Inspired by fighting to love
And by simply loving to fight.

It produces profane compositions
It's a verbal "finger" in the air
Teeming with sarcastic euphemisms
While claiming never to care.

Now, my notebook is like a canvas
A naked ******, if you will
Seeking blemish, seeking substance
Openly desiring a thrill.

My ink bleeds across paper
Creating spark and catching flame
It is words like these, at the end of time
That will carry on my name.

(April 26, 2008)

****** you and your seamless charms.
I blindfolded myself to your flaws.
I fell in love and you let me.

You should have screamed.
Called me a hundred thousand obscenities.
Saved me the trouble.
Saved me the time.

I gave you my voice.
I packed away my pens; my pencils.
I dreamed of forever.
Put behind me old muses.

This is what you have made me.

I've unpacked my plans.
Shredded them.
Burned them.
Along with everything I ever loved about myself.

And yet, you pretend.
Three words still tripping off the tip of your tongue.

You broke everything I ever saw to be beautiful.
You sold every treasure I ever had for us to share.

******* you.
You broke every promise you ever made.
You told me you'd love me forever as you walked away.

(June 27, 2010)

In clover fields 'neath a midday sun
Oh, let me be the summer and you be the sun.
Or if I am the sky, then you're a balloon
We could both float away, take a trip to the moon.
We can wear jeweled crowns and build an empire
Or grab a guitar and sing by the fire.
We'll laugh like thunder and love like rain
Catch fireflies like we're five again.

I'll kiss your knees if you fall while we run
Oh, let me be the summer and you be the sun.
We'll make a pact that we'll never part
The impossible dream of a child's heart.
We can tell tall tales and paint the trees
Or steal a ship, sail away to the sea.
We'll shine the stars with the edge of our sleeves
And stay up all night, never falling asleep.

We'll both grow up and fall in love
Oh, let me be the summer and you be the sun.
We'll teach our kids to imagine and dream
By telling them stories of you and me.
How we wore jeweled crowns and built an empire
You played the guitar as I sang by the fire.
We laughed like thunder and loved like rain
Caught fireflies to feel young again.
How we told tall tales and painted the trees
And stole a ship, sailed away to the sea.
Oh, we shined the stars with the edge of our sleeves
And they'll stay up all night, never falling asleep.

(July 14, 2008)

I am a collection.
I keep myself in cabinets.
A heart locked away;
A mind contained (constrained) by itself.
I smother on my own exhalation.

I am a collection.
I keep my own key; I locked my own door.
I put myself on display.
Visible, but untouchable.
Terrified to be exposed as a whole.

I am a collection.
I gather dust.
Stale ideas; suffocated eyes.
Isolated, so as not to see, to feel.
Please, don't ask me to live outside of these four walls.

I am a collection.
I will fall apart. Fade away.
Unfinished; incomplete.
A voice, locked away, by its own insecurities.

(May 25, 2010)

I fear that each movement we make is becoming a flinch or a cringe.
As though the meaning of the words has been lost in translation- or, perhaps, in repetition.
I feel we neglect the things we need to say and repeat the things we already know to be true.
Monotony is I Love You.
Sincerity is God, I Adore You.

...

Perhaps it's not about words anymore.
Perhaps it's that longing looks have shifted to mere glances.
That special occasions have been taken for granted.
Perhaps it's no longer about beginnings.
Yet, not quite about ends.
Less about the heartbreaks; but more about heartbends.

...

The fear is that lover's hearts don't come in pairs.
That once the first is broken, there are no spares.
I believe that everyone's greatest fear...
After the words have been written...
After the books have been closed...
The goodbye's have been said...
Is being forgotten.

...

Monotony is singularity.
However;
Sincerity is, at the end of time, the ability to say that we were never truly alone.
(D 31:6)

(June 27, 2010)

I want a poet for a lover.
One who's talented with lies.
Who will wear his heart out on his sleeve.
And words as his disguise.

I want a poet for a lover.
Whose poems pray we'll never part.
One who will paint my world with love.
Then, poetically, break my heart.

(January 2009)