It's never quite summer here,
nor winter
Always that time of clouds and coloured leaves
My heart carries that time of day,
when the sun is mere reflection,
the moon,
not yet aglow
Twilight
Tea time in Wonderland
and this Lady Hatter,
is forever late
The time of
Never reached kisses,
between the sun and moon
Of coloured full kisses,
between summer and winter

Eternal Fall
And Twilight

Oh how gross the cycle,
Love to war,
Beauty to ruin,
I have seen the world,

Why oh why have I eyes?

The dreams are enough,
The monsters more horrid in skin,
Than in closets and sheets,
How lonely it is...

Do none still carry flowers...

Flowers without fangs...

Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again