Moments are so temporary I asked, once, for forever And I am glad to let it go I mourn in moments That I so easily Slip from every grasp It is never without Thorny cuts And scars meant to last. Your name sounds like Songbird music And you taught me how to Love And I always remember The small child I was; Every day has four seasons And my winter is harsh To everyone I want to let you in, My love I want to write your song: The world is not a cruel place Without human intention

Short and sweet Just how the summer Should be Fresh berries Stain Lips and fingers We lay on hot beach sand Clothes smell like Bonfire smoke September is coming Short and sweet, Just how I like it How it should be I will miss you When winter comes But seasons always End I would Rest in your lap All summer Kiss your neck, I prayer, Write our story until Semptember And ask if it's the end, We bathe in sunlight In my dreams And it feels So good On bare skin. These two poems were

I think kissing him is Breathing And I suffocate In silence Grief, Perhaps, Is the privilege Of having loved I would never find it Attractive To be perfectly Sane Dandelion man You get one wish What will it be? (Wish for me) I, not un-often, am told I am sugary sweet But some people Prefer Savoury

Maybe you are a language I cannot read Maybe you are a painting And that is why your eyes Are blue Maybe you know The answers And that is why You look away Maybe I think too Much And that's why I have nothing to say If the eyes Are the window To the soul, What do you think I should See when I look into Your eyes? I do not believe in your naivety. They say Curiousity killed the cat I wish I Could ask What you think of that. The full saying is, "Curiosity killed the cat, but sa

Is honesty spilling Guts all over the floor Am I obvious: easy to read, deciphered with a glance and you choose to turn away Am I a mystery: clouded in hypocrisy, molded by half strangers and their opinions on my broken teeth Are you trying to read in the bylines, looking for meaning in a dialect you haven't heard before Is honestly spilling guts All over the floor This poem came about out of genuine curisosity. When is it dishonest to not speak your mind? When is honestly cr