Why, when love dissipates and alone

I retrace all the words, you are not there

if my thirst overcomes my desires,

you are no there in my bed

where your embers remain, not the fires

consuming my nights, you are not there-

May I ask if we are done

with whatever it was? If we had

but such moments to spare,

every one that I held tightly close

to my heart,

are we done without breaking apart?

Then, if love dissipates all alone

and my bed remains empty,

I may ask you to please drop me gently

from those clouds

where my wishes you kept

from the start-


“It’s not the endings that will haunt you

But the space where they should lie,

The things that simply faded

Without one final wave goodbye.”

― Erin Hanson


In Passing


In Passing


Do not fade

into the what could have been,

seeds wilted in the stagnation of a drought

after the passing storm, my skin

knowing your touch so well, without,

a deserted vastness of this empty space.

Do not forget

a soul feeds from attention

when hungrily seeking redemption

from sins of flesh, mea culpa,

in blindness seeking to say

how I needed you

delicately wrapped in lace

under sheets sustaining desires.

Do not go alone

into the unknowns of time,

when love so little requires

and a flicker of light

will burn bright

into the dark tomorrows.

Could you imagine me as yours?

I wonder how you see me inside

your guarded thoughts,

a touch you kindly hide

while in dreams alone

will always see you as mine-


“The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.”

― Jenim Dibie





I tried capturing the essence of who you are

your passion and your longing

trashing wildly in my loving hands

not enough to hold you, belonging

to another one that held you for so long-

And free you became in a wild flutter

of wishes waking up underneath

your hidden wants,

but life is so that when we find

where we belong,

where all the wishes underneath

the constant longing

will go to rest,

it is too late for time does pass

too fast to wait, too quick to hold,

that essence of who you are,

where I belong-


“I don’t even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.”

― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

A Wounded Bird


A Wounded Bird


Shapes of dark feathers perfectly aligned

against the sky marked a path south

where winter’s lips coldly kiss the clear night-

And your eyes tell me it is time

to spread wings and plan your flight

to new horizons where summer’s heat

will match your wish for freedom

while left behind in a drouth

of dreams a goodbye kiss-

And cold approaching fast reminds me

a promise made some time ago

when kisses fresh the excitement fed

in moments perfect for each other

and hoped my arms help you forget

a golden cage left open-

But now your eyes will look away

into a place your heart will hold

whereas my arms so frail and old

cannot embrace what you now seek,

so spread your wings

my wounded bird I will not speak

but let you go

to summer days awaiting you

while here I’ll stay in winter’s cold-


This poem was inspired by a dream. Dark hair tied into a bun, pale skin, pensive eyes she looked towards the sky where the birds flying south left a longing in her eyes. I knew then I needed to let her go. I woke up feeling sad with a sense of loss.

“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”

― Leonardo da Vinci

So Brief



So Brief


So brief ‘twas love but lasting yearn

will clutch my heart,

the heavens feel of loving once,

the hellish pain of losing part

of what became my daily fare

of cherished eyes

that looked upon this nether man-

So brief her lips

that left me stained in crimson red

to paint my dreams

of Neverland

and brief her skin

that kept me warm in winter’s heart

and fed my crave.

So brief the nights of naughty sin

when lost I found in her a land

to house my grave,

eternal soul forever yearn

so brief ‘twas-


“How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into.”

― Sylvia Plath





I keep no trace of your pain

wounds can’t heal on ragged skin

or flesh denied of a touch

in blinding obsession tight shut.

Love most times runs downstream

becoming someone else’s dream

and pain remains deep inside

while I tender my own grief.

Knots were long ago untied

and may seem somewhat insane

that to live we must first die,

so I ask you to forgive

I keep not trace of your pain.






Lost in the brown of your eyes

I could have loved the impossibility you became,

watching the subtle beauty of your inner soul

as I strung desires from the skies

reflected on your dreams, dreams I stole

to set my love aflame-

Even now I wish I could have tasted

your life flavors, but wishes wasted

too late to such a life reclaim.

Now lost in the memory of your brown eyes

I yearn the possibility you became.