I hope you wore a sweater,
in your favorite shade of blue.
It gets cold in late November,
(it gets darker faster, too)

I hope the shoes you wore fit snugly
(even if your socks don't match)
I hope your last day wasn't ugly,
I hope the pain was over fast.

I'm sure you felt your sadness deeply,
I'm sure you felt your heart ache too.
When you took a walk when all were sleeping,
in your favorite shade of blue.

I wonder what it felt like,
to pick the perfect tree.
To end your painful heartache,
snug shoes on dangling feet.

But my most pressing question,
that I would ask of you,
is where did you lose your earbud?
(you're wearing one, not two)

They moved you to the metal table,
(the one that tilts down at an angle)
They cut the sweater off you too,
your favorite one in midnight blue.

They make their notes:
your weight,
your height.
They check your shoulder width and write:
"He will fit a standard casket"
(they carry on with their assessment)

"Rope indentation - on the neck
Eyes and fingers - blue and red
Socks mismatching
Nike shoes
One earbud gone"
(that's all I knew)

Tell me why'd you take that walk?
I know the road ahead looked bare.
Tell me how you chose a song.
Did you brush your teeth and comb your hair?

Did it happen on a school night?
(your file says you were in 12th grade)
Did you tell your mom you loved her?
- with your mind already made.

So to the boy with just one earbud,
I'm sorry this world felt so wrong.
I hope you're in your favorite sweater,
and you're listening to your favorite song.

the professor
name's John, I think
every day a goatee
a ponytail
and an honest smile
brings me flowers
sometimes.
pays in nickels
sometimes.
"have an easy day"
he says to me

man in the same brown
suit, mismatching
every day
coffee, hunched over
with something under
his arm
sometimes.
never seen him speak
just a scowl
and a solemn shuffle

the owner
of the bar next door
I think.
out for a cigarette
every 30 minutes or so
or move his car
he gets our mail
sometimes.
glasses on his forehead
never on his face
always a fleeting
noncommittal smile
pacing past the door
sly eyes.

there's the guy
stuck in the 70s.
every day
bell bottoms
a black bowl cut
it's a wig
I think.
a leather jacket
sometimes.
walks like he owns
the sidewalk
he doesn't.

the old man
the half-blind one
orders the same thing
always.
with his walker
his hands searching
haven't seen him
in a while

the big guy from
the burger place
across the street
no, not the famous one
the other place.
took his suggestion
got a burger
wasn't very good
but he's always so
cheery, gotta be nice

the one guy
blue shorts guy
stops by during his
run, to check
the selection.  back
an hour later in
pants and
a jacket now.
never buys a thing
wearing those blue shorts

the woman with
oddly spaced teeth
and hair
the short witchy kind
lots of shawls
and oversized tote bags
and cargo-capri's.
complained of
an allergic reaction
once
to god knows what.
keeps coming back though

a mother and son
mother, tired.
ten year old
private school boy
asks for too much
and too many questions
"did you make this?"
"are you really 20?"
"do you go to school?"
he asks so many questions
"yes, yes, no."
"why not?"
"well…"
mom saves me
distracts him away

the poor skinny one
the homeless man.
ill-fitting clothes
always.
women's
sometimes.
begging, cigarettes and money
has a tic, says
"hello! hi! hello!"
every few seconds
he's very persistent.
and very polite.
gracefully insane, I'd say

With brain bashing into head cavity,
the gelatinous mass of neurons screams out
to white blood cells swimming in eyeballs
to evacuate before drowning.
"Quit clowning around in there and
save yourselves!"
The moody mistress creates her own hells:
congratulations!
Sleeping alone in a sweat covered bed,
she spins saccharine thoughts and pollutes her head
with taffy, thick like molasses,
cooking sugar in the kitchen with
the wrong end of a spoon in her mouth.
Dried up *** stains litter her couch
as she wakes up to turn the cushions
and search for loose change
to fill up her coin pouch.
"Ouch! Ouch!"
She calls out, clean
sheets on a new day,
his fingers firing in a frenzy
and introducing the fusion of
pleasure and pain.
He smells of benzene and
she's afraid of burning,
stomach churning and
using gasoline as lubricant.
He hit her, she said, and it felt like a kiss.
She misses him at her day job
when she runs around town
robbing banks and
picking up handkerchiefs
that grandmothers drop on the ground.
He would pound
his manhood into a brick wall
if it moved like her,
but the skin-and-bones combo
woos him to coo at her
as swarms of sparrows
nest in her ***** hair.
Spit shined shoes and
riding leaves blown on the air,
she dreams of him awake,
listless eyes alive and pulsing
behind a film of glassy, viscous mucus.
She makes magic potions out of the scents
left over on one of her
mismatching pillow cases.
He tastes like roasted red peppers
and lingering mace:
her eyes water as she
chokes back ***** daintily,
like a queen.
His eyes gleam mean as
he steals her breath to
add it to his bursting bank account,
releasing her to give her back only gasps,
the 2% interest.
She crafts road maps of his back bone while he sleeps,
but he sees her as a phantom,
creeping through the floorboards,
a faceless specter with an ace up her sleeve.

Though we both came from the same place, perhaps it’s our desires & reality in mismatching that got us changing places, who’s to say I’m right or wrong, through hard times got my heart turn hard & my anxiety got my character stupor. Real friends make effort to be apart & make us feel good. It’s been a while since a flashed a smile. I hope it won’t stay until the end of time. I am able to let go, another poem out, it’s less than what I’m about, there is more, but the only thing I’ve done good is writing poetry. Now I’m peeked behind the curtain & willing be selling my soul. Now I’m in forever.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr11?ie=UTF8&qid=1536924150&sr=8-1&keywords=darcy+prince

writing poems of love from the lost and found

you go to the closet in the school office,
for having been realtime been schooled in the mischances
of ill-iteration of life enhancing love stories, teach says:

the only peace now to be find from another lost soul
in the cardboard box of one right glove and one left sock,
ugly scarfs, mismatched two left ventricles, hats with lice,
sneakers good for nothing, but maybe some comfort for the lost,
for in the midst of the other miscellanies tales of lost one’s,
a match, good enough, can be found

makes no sense but perfect in its nonsensicality,
a word perfected script of his life, the chest pains too real,
to the gathering of the found, then lost souls, he retires,
perusal of assorted messes, textiles of the human variety,
a good enough accident will be stumbled on, hope restored

it is December and school is closing for winter vacation,
going home with one hand and one heart unsheathed
is not tenable, parent-able and just impracticable given
the coldness of isolation, a mismatched mitten selectee chosen

the yellow hell-o bus ride home is full of tortious interference,
the mismatching hand covering is an announcement of
‘please ridicule the loser’ that will be great, great fun,
I considering doing the undone, that hiding in the
lost and found for two weeks is mighty tempting and
a realistic possibility

slings and arrows of verbal definition slung and spat,
the general hysteria to his Travel & Entertainment account expensed,
but the gentlest shotgun tap of a hand upon his back, reveals a
folded scrap of a notebook page cornered in a cashmere gloved,
in her hand container, taken and secreted for in private-perusal

an address, an email unspoken written invitation to please contact
if you’re home, not going vacationing anywhere (ha!), me neither,
let’s get together, get married, have three kids, and get the hell
out of this frozen hearted land of misery

so I would like to tell you that is indeedy what happened,
so that is what I’ll tell you in fact, that,
that is exactly
what occurred with two more trips to the L & F
for different colleges, different coasts, different continents,
more lost and founds of accidental lost luggage meetings,
long distance loving worn down, too hard, lost, time eroded

till came the realization that love from
the lost and found
might be a meant to be message,
cause those words always end in...
found

My words just arn't graceful 
And my thoughts quite distasteful
I'd rather not think at all 
An eternal sleep 
Or a prince named Phillepe
A mismatching rhyme 
Or a bucket of slime 
Dunk my woes in a trail of hoes
For i've taken it out with many-a-blows
******* a bubble
A life void of trouble 
For a well rested life
I'd bottle my strife 
But until that day comes 
I need something that numbs 
For I am most easily replaceable 
These words really are quite disgraceful
I'm stuck right in a bind 
Just can't get you off my mind 
How cliche
Is what you would say 
How terrible are these useless lines 
They give me nothing but impertinent rhymes 
Not a story 
Nor a page of glory
I'll continue to ramble on
Until once again I feel strong 
I'll string two lines together 
This could go on forever...

MUST LOVE POETRY
And I don't mean the written kind
I mean the kind that is felt

It doesn't matter if you can express it,
You don't have to write it
Sing it
Or
Preform it-
You have to believe it.

The beauty of a sunset
The art between character and voice
The beauty of two things mismatching

You have to wonder about the world
And travel to places you'll never go

You have to wear masks of different faces
Find beauty in love that heaven replaces
Put treasure where voids leave empty spaces.

MUST LOVE POETRY

The kind that lasts longer than a read through
The kind that you feel as the wind breathes you
The poetry that finds light  in all the dark alleys
The kind that doesn't give up when in a hopeless valley

It's the kind of poetry that's lived
The kind that sees more than seven colors in a rainbow
Hangs on to love
but isn't afraid to let go
It's the kind  that doesn't always make sense...
Past
Present
Or future tense-

MUST LIVE POETRY.

Yet the sun's coming down to earth,
and walks the fields and the waters
Yet the great man's willing to be little
Neither those raised heads
Nor those unguarded egos
Mismatching the faces and matching the souls
Can this heart ever show
look beyond the imperfections
There lies this perfect soul
where this heart has had ached
where this soul has had cried
Now is the time
To show the world,
your built up glory
your glowing charm..

Our bodies pressed together as we danced the invisible square in the middle of the school hallway. Moving from side to side as the piano's melody infiltrated our ears through the headphones. We swayed slowly, softly, keeping with the pace of slow-quick-quick that was required for the box step. Her arms were around my shoulders, my arms rested on her hips as we swung slowly, softly, going about the hall as if it were a grand ballroom and us its only occupants. I looked her in the eyes, the emotion on my sleeves that were hugging her hips. She looked back, smiling as if she were enjoying herself as much as I was. I couldn't help it, I had to whisper to her, had to break the trance the music had put on us, but had to in such a way that the moment would be filled with no regret, filled with the trueness I had kept in my heart.
"I love you." I say, smiling as if I had no clue of how ugly my smile were, smiling as if I were happy with more than just my grades. Her eyes glistened against the shine of the over-head lights. She smiled her beautiful smile and took me into a euphoria that was so blissful that I imagined I felt heat rising to my face in a blush.
"I love you too."
And with those words spoken, she leans closer, arms running down the broad of my back and hooking there as she lay her head on my chest and slowly rock with me, easing from left to right, slowly making our way in a giant circle in the middle of the hallway. I knew this was it, I knew this was what I had been looking for: a feeling of love to replace the feelings of longing in my heart, the feelings of lonely in my soul.
Left, right, left, right. We swayed in unison, her hips matching mine as our circle broadened with the music of the piano. I kissed her forehead, prompting her to look up at me as if we were sending mutual signals. I lean into her, hands lightly swishing her hips a little further, pushing against her own momentum, and kiss her tender lips like I had never kissed before. This was what her love had done, this is what my longing had done, we were one in the same in a world that only matched stride with cheetahs. We were the difference, we were the exception to the world as we softly went about the hall rocking and rocking, lips matching and not mismatching for long periods of time.
And then the bell rang, stating that it was time to go to class. But we paid it no attention, we stayed where we would remain for only mere seconds before the herd of students could overtake us. She drops the earbud and grabs my hand.
"Please, for me, remember this moment. Remember the moment when two unlikely souls set each other free, the moment when the heavens looked at the both of us with favor and brought us a match in emotion." tears escaped her eyes.
"though it may be my last time seeing you like this, I shall always be here in spirit," She continues, "but don't hasten to bid me farewell, love. Please, take the punishments of this tardy and stay and dance with me. Just sway." and with that, I continue our sway, placing my hands back on the sides of her hips as the students walk around us.
And we swish, hips moving as we make our own music with our foot-falls, matching a rhythm that we both find pleasurous. Rocking and rocking, swaying and swishing. I lean toward her once more, bidding her farewell with just one last kiss. Closing my eyes as our lips connect, right hand coming from her hip to stroke her cheek.
But when I open my eyes, she's no longer there. I'm alone in a hallway as my schoolmates pass around me, strange looks shown evident in each face that passes. The second bell rings and I open the door to class just in time, tears escaping as I look around the room at those who could never understand what I had felt.
A love that was lost isn't a blessing in comparison to the feeling of never being loved, in fact, it is a curse. So I have always remembered my beautiful hummingbird as she was, a free spirit and a free soul, but a part of me that I can never retrieve again.
Is brea liom tu, forever and always.

others waltz and caper
while i stumble about
in mismatching rusted anatomy
i was a king queen,
praise my uncloaked *******
memorabilia

If you're waiting for a Prince Charming
I'm sorry to break your fantasies
But he will never come
If you're waiting for someone
Handsome, funny, wealthy
Understanding and caring
All at the same time
Then you won't find one

But maybe you'll find a
Funny nutjob without a job
Or a wealthy guy shielded with walls
You'll find a
Handsome hero with a broken heart
Or maybe an understanding nerd
With no looks at all
Love won't measure and calculate
Because 'lovability' is like pineapple on pizza
It's not a thing
You'll fall for the worst of them
And the best of them
But none will be perfect

Who the **** created perfect?
Mathematically,
It would be equal to infinity times better
It's like saying
Two parallel lines will meet
Or a zero will multiply itself over and over till it reaches a quantity
But actually, in what we feel and see
It won't, it's all abstract

Perfect doesn't exist
Prince Charming doesn't exist
But you can find someone
In whose pockets you can tuck your imperfections
And he can tuck it in yours
And you can be mismatching puzzle pieces
Trying to lock into each other
But not locking in completely
Trying to be of the same frequency
But varying in every other degree
You can be who you are, bare skin and bones
With each other but you'll never be
A fairytale or a happily ever after

Lately, they fail me
Everything is tending to
The words

I am lost
Fighting through a shadow
Reaching for the stars
But settling for the wet grass
Lying among the strands
Broken
Like I feel

I let you reach into my soul
Pull and tug me along
Let myself long to please you

I let the world take my hands
Tied together and to everything else
Drag me along
I will follow

Shouldn't I learn how to be
A scale
To measure worth
To balance this?

Shouldn't I be calm in crises?
Instead of the hurricane itself?
But the tears won't stop
I've tried dikes
But still the waves come

I beg you
Take it from me
Your words scratch and burn
Lacerating my soul
Teaching me to hide
But the shadows
My friends
Have gone

I have tried to be a veteran
Undertook the enemies
To see you smile
Why?
Tell me
Why am I like this?
Why does this mismatching, shattered soul
Rely on darkness to keep calm?
The darkness that rips itself away from me
Keeping its distance

Show me the sadness
I welcome it
Anything but this weight on my heart
I don't know how to put it to words anymore
I can't get rid of it
I don't comprehend myself

I'm drowning

I am
trying

help me

I have undertaken too much

The first time I saw you, you walked past me like a crack in the wall. You were as tall as a skyscraper and for a brief moment I felt rocks in my chest when your eyes made a connection with mine and strayed for a minute before you disappeared into the crowd of people. You look both ways before exchanging I love you's and as we hug goodbye I feel you scanning the empty room with your eyes as if the walls themselves had eyes and ears and mouths that could give you away. Curled up on your lap with mismatching breaths you wondered how someone who looked like they carried mountains could crumble so easily into your arms like the tornado in my mind finally came down and crashed and burned. Rubbing the tips of my fingers down your arm like reading Braille carved into your skin binding them together forming the perfect metaphor and you'll hear it playback with thoughts in your head at 4am when your head runs wild with thoughts of me. I set fire to your insides with hushed breaths between kisses planted perfectly on your lips and make you wonder how dangerous it is to play with fire when your whole body is made out of paper. You'll stare god right in the eyes and tell him if loving me was a sin then you want no place of heaven with him because of the way my lips fit perfectly on your neck is a type of paradise you'll never want to forget.

you are rain.
you are chinese food at 4 pm.
you are otter pictures when I'm stressed and
a warm hug just because.
you are surprise chocolate at 6:30 pm on a wednesday.
you are help baking cookies and
a kiss on the forehead when you think I'm cute.
you are mismatching socks and
a messy room covered in laundry and partially read books.
you are corny jokes i shouldn't laugh at and
endless ****** innuendos.
you are an oversized sweater on a cold night and
an "I make awesome pancakes" in the morning.
you are infinite compliments and
a brush of hair out of my face.
you are a "get home safe" and
a piggyback ride in my apartment.
you are my ponytail holder as i throw up everything,
too drunk to remember much, except you holding my hand.
you are an open door held for me and
a noticing of the green in my eyes.
you are an adventurer at sunset and
a "hold my coffee please" on the way to class.
you are the keeper of all my secrets and
a rememberer of everything i say.
you are the 96 on that difficult essay and
the only person who could get me into politics.
you are the sad songs at 2 am and
the guitar chords i love almost as much as your voice.
you are my first kiss in the rain which is now
an item checked off my bucket list.

you are more than i could've asked for.