He left
A mark the color of red wine
Zinfandel
Placed high on cheek bone
Directly under her left eye
Such tears only bruising
It further

I didn't mean to
He simply stated

She left
A note the color of resentment
Charcoal
Placed atop bedroom dresser
Directly over her exiled contents
Such emptiness only reinforcing
It further

Once was more than enough
She simply stated

Next to my pillow,
I keep a bottle
of her perfume

All of my longings are
for her small hand
holding mine

My heart still aches,
but only for her

And my poems only end
with her

Leaf Curl




True Color




Fall

The ruthless will devour you
Yet you will not even know it happened
Until the jaws begin to close
And the light begins to dim
The curtain draws and the clapping ends
By the time you realize
What that ruthless man has done

It will be utterly too late

For the pieces will have been moved
The pawns all sacrificed
And the dreaded realization will set in
That you were just a spectator to the game

And not even worth being called a piece
At all

Not of this Earth's manufactured light
but surely of a Heavenly source
steadfastly sparkling and bright
distilled into a perfume that,
unbottled by my trembling fingers
touches my soul
for breathing in starlight
that is born from your love
gives me the oxygen I desire
makes of me a Galaxy
a world apart, eternal, and whole

I've wandered past the edge of perpetuity,
and found it wanting.
I've danced on the fence of commitment,
wavering between never and always.
The infinite has mocked me,
I embraced my bitter mortality
and mocked the abyss right back.
There's no reasons beyond what we decide.
There's no reason at all.

Needs are met,
so set sail on the glass surface
of simple contentedness
and let the breeze of life
paint wrinkles on our faces.

Let's smile at the waning sunlight,
laugh at the encroaching pale moon.

For no reason.
No reason at all.