Steps

We have Waltzed together some time now
In Step
One — Two — Three
One — Two — Three
Years... Nearly Four
Our Arms Intertwined,
Or Otherwise our Hearts.

We have Walked together how far now?
In Step
My Life; now full of your Footprints
As You have frolicked through it
Dragging me further than I could go on my own,
Or Would.

As our Lifesongs have Harmonized,
We have moved In Step
And our Journey has taken us far
But walking with you never gets tiresome,
My Dear,
And I love the sound of your Footsteps.

Arboles

The fool mistakes silence for peace.
It's in the silence that the seeds were planted, the whispers released, the papers signed.
The trap was set in the dead stillness of night.

It's in silence the wounds festered and the contempt became hatred.
In the quiet that the roots dug deep into men's hearts.
Silence is rarely Peaceful

And if it continue the seed will sprout.
And the Hatred shall start to leak into his thoughts, into her speech,into their acts.
They will cry out against each other.
And cries will become that of mourners.
For the tree now bears only coffins and eulogies.

Only a fool mistakes silence for peace.
For if he had cried out, they wouldnt have planted the seed.

Of Coffee, Crackers and Mortal Men

A man I thought wise said these words,
And having thought myself wiser that I was,
I sought to append.

So the man I thought wise said,
"I like my coffee the way I like my women;
Dark and Sweet."

And There.
Not just an empty cup of memories,
Reminding you of what was, with whiffs,
And the lingering warmth of a recently used bedside,
And the space between your fingers that once held Something.

And at Night.
Where the darkness warms as the Darkness cools,
And the moon shines in both.
The Nightsong the chorus to the sips and lip-touches.
The drink beckoning the lengths of night to come.

And with Crackers.
Because even though there is more to life than Love, and Flowers and Airs
It doesn't hurt to add Love and Flour and Air...
Or even a bit of hardship;
Though between the two of us, they grow soft.

That's how I like my coffee,
And my Crackers,
And some Mortal Men.
And I will enjoy them, until they,
Or I,
Expire.

"With Love"

As she fingered her secrets through my head,

Hiding them not in my memories but in the hair that guards them,

I Slept. 

But not before answering with my own truths, 

Tapped out on the floor with the rhythm of my feet

Morse Code..

Not a word uttered.

Just Communication. 

And even in the silence of a dreamless sleep she wrote them.

Inscribing in the keratin canvas the fears and joys I haven't been told. 

Concealing them.
Close enough to feel but too far to read. 

She wrote them there.

For I had long run out of words to read to her.

I awoke, and she closed her remarks

"With Love,"

Synesthesia

I shall remember the taste of your quickening heartbeat,
The texture of your voice,
Because in you I see the sweet smell of a Jazz piece.
Making me feel all the colours
And hear the flavour of your skin.
"Please don't go
I'll eat you whole
I love you so, I love you so, I love you so"
Sensations intertwine,
Because in you I hear the comforting feel of a long time.
Clarity at last in a fool's mind
Sounds, aromas, colours, textures, flavours:
You capture my whole consciousness.
Because in you, I'm a synesthete.

An Apology

I was once told that I apologized once too much.
My "sorry"s depreciated,
Unappreciated,
They no longer alleviated the hurt I caused.
She told me this.
She left.
I apologized.

It had to be done,
There was no other road left open to me;
I fucked up.
Doesn't mean you should forgive
But I have to say
I really want you to.

My apologies are sincere
And even though my personal torment cannot dry tears
I'm a fuck up.
Doesn't mean you should forgive
But I have to say
Please do.

I realize I tend to raise expectations.
I do so much right,
Say so much right,
Be so much right,
But I in the end are what I am
Fallible.
Doesn't mean you should forgive
But I have to say
"I'm Sorry."

Aevum

Have you ever Watched a Breeze?
Or the Formation of an Idea on One's Brow?
Realising that what is just Empty Space..
Or Just a Face..
Is Quite Full..
Powerful.
Damning.

Or the Flow of Time.
Though I am skeptical of the Future.
As I see more Now, and a Hope that Now continues.
And in this Continual Present,
Time, the anarchist, smiles..
Watching as Order grows into Disorder..
Reveling in Entropy.

Or The World...
Moving Monotonously through its Motions...
In an Eternal Pirouette
Entertaining itself with its Inhabitants..
Probably not Considering the Consequence of its Whims.
Not burdened by Duty...
Just People.

And in the Quite Full Empty Space
Seeking the Powerful Just a Face,
And the Hope of Continuing Presents,
But a few Years of Time's Entertainment,
The Light Burden of a Dancing World;
We Stand.