Sleepy thoughts

While insomnia stalks the garden of this body,
thoughts of you blush in the undergrowth.

To you, my child

Don't get any ideas, I do not have any children. None too, are on the way. Just something that someone said to me, "By the time a man realises his father was right, he has a son who thinks he is wrong." It got me thinking what I would tell my child

I know you want to grow up
Grow up as fast as you can
Yet, I ask you
To use this as a lesson in patience
Growing takes time
There will be times when you grow on the outside
And times when you grow on the inside
Both are needed
No amount of hurrying will lessen that time.

I know you want to talk like older people
Use words that they use
Yet, I ask you
To not tax your tongue
Into saying what you don’t understand
Words are precious and powerful
Take your time learning the words,
Learning their meanings,
So you can really mean what you say.

I know you want to look like an adult
Wear clothes like them
Yet, I ask you
To think through before you dress
Ask yourself -
Am I comfortable in these?
Is this appropriate for the occasion?
As sad and unfair as it is, clothes do make a man
Doors open or shut depending on what you wear.

I know you don't want to listen
To parents, when you have friends
Yet I ask you to stop and listen
Listen to the love and concern in their voices and words
Listen to their knowing of the world around you
They have experience, you haven't yet earned.
They have lived longer than you, learned a thing or two
You don’t have to do like they did
But stop and converse with them.

When all is said and done
It matters not how fast you grew
but how steady a person you are
It matters not how many adult words you use
but how your words made the other feel
It matters not how fashionable you were
but how elegant your spirit is
It matters not how many friends you have
but how many touched your soul
It matters not if you didn’t do what your parents did
but how well you did what you do
It’s about how tall you can stand
When there is no applause.

Loving you always

Native Tongue

Sounds of familiar words,
Wrapped in warm folds,
Blending Definitions,
Memories and re-incarnations
Into meaningful silences
Love fills the ambience
Distance seems close
As the soul flows

Acoustic Mistress

My guitar called me to play with her.
I lifted her gently.
I placed her upon my lap,
her side upon my thigh,
her body against my chest.
I stroked her smooth curves lovingly.
I placed my fingers, tender but firm,
around her neck and caressed her strings.
She vibrated softly to my touch.
I whispered to her
and lightly fingered her frets.
I coaxed her into song.
Delicate at first,
becoming more rhythmic and louder as she found her voice,
I strummed her with passion.
We roared together.
She rose and fell against me.
Singing, laughing, crying, wild.
My mistress beneath my hands..
I imagined she was you.

Bleeding ink

As I write out all these words in ink,I feel as if I fear that blood will pour
in the stead of ink because my heart
has been ripped open; stripped by the sound of some
melodious laughter; th’ harmonious sound of you.
You have taken hold of my heart, and I
am powerless to stop your fingers as they
smooth the roughness from my skin and make me
whole again. You alone have brought me
joy – more than any other could,
more than any other would, and now
I sit here trembling because I fear
what Fate may bring to come to pass and I
cannot bear the thought of ever losing
you, my Love. I cannot lose you too.
You are my hope, you are my joy, and words
there aren’t enough to bear the weight of what
I’m pouring out, dear Love, in secret, just for
you. Always you. Only you.

Refuge

She is 

my favorite 

hiding place 

I escaped into her 

when language 

wouldn't let me be

You

There is you.How do I explain you?
How do I characterize you, 

communicate you, describe you, 

interpret you.

How do I convey you, 

define you, depict you, 

give a sense of you?

How can I explain

what it is about you that excites 

and thrills me. 

That makes me hunger for you. 

That takes my breath away. 

That makes me want to write poetry 

with you in every single line?

How can I paint a picture 

of what captivates and enthralls me. 

Enraptures and arouses me. 

Makes me smile stupidly. 

Like a schoolboy. 

Like a fool?

How do I put into words 

how you make me feel beyond powerful, 

beyond strong?
How do I write this down clearly now?

When I barely know the answers myself.

There is a woman

There is a woman.She walks this earth.
I have not met her, although I once came close. 

I have barely seen her, though glimpses have thrilled me. 

I have never spoken to her, although I swear I can hear her sweet accent in my head. 

And in my dreams.
I do not know her perfume but her scent thrills me. 

I have not touched her but can almost feel her skin beneath my finger tips. 

I have not looked into her eyes, but feel light-headed at the thought.
I have not owned her, but the hunger to do so consumes me.
There is a woman.
She walks this earth

FALTER

He can sense her in every footstep.
Every cracked, grey paving slab,
Every rust-red, crumbling brick,
Every light-filled, laughing window,
Every mocking, welcoming sign.

He will not bend.He will not falter.
He can see her in every stranger.
Every passing, dark hunched shadow,
Every bare-legged, smiling girl.
Every wide-eyed, staring child.
Every joyful, oblivious lover.

He will not bend.He will not falter.

He can feel her in every heartbeat.
Every rapid, strained, urgent breath
Every drum-tight, bursting sinew
Every white-knuckle, clenching fist
Every streaming hot angry tear.

He must not bend.
He must not falter.

Good morning

Four in the morning
I'm counting the sylables
Until I see you

Woke up to study and this is all I could think of

Perspectives

You said that being ‘in love’was more than ‘loving’
though I disagreed.

There seemed little pointin arguing the case.
There was no need.

I’d always loved youbut you were never
in love with me.

IF...

If I should die soon
I will leave behind
enough love
to warm your sweet heart
for eternity.

Sent as a text at four one bleak, sleepless, lonely night in March of this year when it actually seemed a real possibility

Last Chapter

I believed there would be a final chapter.A last blaze of glory.
Her body eloquent in its form. 

Her large, almond-shaped eyes wide with fear and desire. 

Her red lipstick smudged beneath my fingers.
Her nerves dancing beneath my touch.
Her long dark hair spread like a wild storm upon sacrificial white sheets. 

Her nakedness pure and fresh, 

But in this heavy, echoing, empty silence I am no longer certain.
Perhaps the final page has already been written.
The ink has dried.

Sometimes

There are things I miss
that I shouldn't,
and things I don't
that I should

Sometimes we want
what we couldn't
sometime we love
who we could

Opportunity

If I were
to sketch out
my life
for you
would you
take the time
to see
all the shapes
hidden in what
I’ve painted
or merely
take on face value
the lovely scene
I place
before
your eyes

Her Imagination

Her imagination keeps calling her.
She tries to put herself in the room.
The hush.
A silence that crackles with electricity.
A stillness that is full of movement.
A quiet that is disturbed by the wild beating of her hungry heart.
His voice. Soft, deep, gentle, compelling. Hypnotic.
His words. His instructions. His control.
Seductive and certain.
His touch. Long fingers cool on her skin.
Running through her hair.
Languid yet definite.
Gorgeous but dangerous.
Pleasure yet pain.
Undressing her.
Peeling her clothes from her.
Discovering every inch of her.
Revealing her soul.
More naked than her body.
She tries to put herself beneath his hands.
Her imagination keeps betraying her.

You voice

You calling my name
Spring, summer, autumn, winter
Embraces my heart.

The Optimists Creed – by Christian D. Larson – 1912

I PROMISE MYSELF

To be so strong that nothing can disturb my peace of mind.

To talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person I meet.

To make all my friends feel that there is something worthwhile in them.

To look at the sunny side of everything, and make my optimism come true.

To think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as I am about my own.

To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful expression at all times and give a smile to every living creature I meet.

To give so much time to improving myself that I have no time to criticize others.

To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of myself and to proclaim this fact to the world, not in loud words, but in great deeds.

To live in the faith that the whole world is on my side, so long as I am true to the best that is in me.

Love

Hearts join, as eyes meet,
Bound together through distance,
Sway in Love’s ardor.

Summer

in summer I sleep
underneath open windows
so my dreams can fly

from me to the moon
across the night sky to you
lovers triangle

Sing to me

Sing to me.
I want to hear your voice
breathe your song
so richly proclaimed
and the harmonies it blends;
glorious, melodious, dissonant.

Speak to me.
I want to wrap my arms
around your words
so eloquently spoken
and such loveliness they hold;
they nourish my heart and my soul.

Come to me.
I want to feel your soul
brush my own
so tenderly touched
and in secret, a whisper;
no one but us shall know.

Closer than lovers

We met almost beyond memory, 

amongst the first hopes, 

possible dreams, and endless days. 

She was long limbed and perfect 

with brown eyes that could search souls. 

Her hair was a wild storm of dark curls 

a sun bleached halo about her lovely head. 

Her smile banished clouds. 

She turned heads and captivated without guile.
Time has been kind, barely thickening her body 

only touching her face with honest lines 

that define her beauty rather than diminish it. 

She has taken on the mantle of age with ease, elegance and grace. 

She still commands a second look from hopeful strangers
We are no longer lovers yet we are much closer than that.
She still wears my ring

Dance

I have said goodbye to them all.
To the woman with the moon in her eyes. 

To every possibility of a lover enchanted by my words. 

To the walled garden, and to temporary friends. 

And to the desk within earshot of buses.It made me think I was in motion when I was not. 

Perhaps it is why I stayed so long. 

Too long.
I drove home with the sun at its highest, 

with the windows open and my guitar on the back seat. 

The wind ran its fingers across my face 

less tenderly than the girl had done 

when she’d lain in my arms for the last time that morning. 

It had been such a lovely evening, such a perfect night. 

It has gone forever.
She did not cry. 

She still believes. 

Yet it is over.
And now, 

I cannot decide if this is the beginning of an end, 

or the end of a beginning.
At the moment it feels like freedom.
I am home. 

With the one who knows me best.
She will dance me to the end of love.

Carry On

Wandering here, I can not stay
Life has become I and I have become life.
Thoughts grow as does a new soul
And though I am too far gone,
One day,
One of us
Will carry on…

Lies

the truth is a lie
repeated year after year
until truth’s the lie

prisms can bend light
just as words can twist the truth
when properly said

Wishful Thinking

Sometimes I wish that you could just feel how deeply I feeland know the true depths of my love.If only I could, I’d take hold of your hands,take hold of your fingers,
and let them run over the face of my spirit,the uneven surface of my broken, torn, weary soul.And at great risk of tearing myself apart,I would let you touch the texture of my heart.Because maybe then
– just maybe then –
you would come to learn and understandhow much it all hurts
and how painful it is
to burden the thought of losing you,even if you are
not mine to lose.

Love's Irony

Have we been any less loving—than kind?
When it was love we wanted, 
there was none love to give,
and yet when there was love to give
it was not the love we wanted.
Thus the love we receive 
is no more than the love we deserve

Lusful

To want you is never enough 
to know you–
What it is to touch you, to hold you,
to wake up in arms of which I do not wish to stir.
As I am neither the light in your eyes, nor the wind in your hair.
And yet you are ever the warmth in my arms at night,
even though I can only hold you–
In my heart

Stand Still

I have seen so much beauty.

Yet it still has the power to excite me, 
to thrill me, to captivate me. 
To enrapture, to enthrall, to fascinate, 
to intrigue, to mesmerize.
 
I think of you on this sultry summer’s night, 
the air thick with warmth, scent and desire. 
Strains of almost-heard music on the faint breeze.
The sound of a home-bound bus in the long, long distance. 
Animals stirring in the undergrowth. 
A hunting owl calling to its mate. 
The air quietly whispering beneath the bridge.

I picture you in a summer dress, 
the skirt flowing like a sea about your legs, 
the bodice clinging tightly to your sweet body, 
the straps emphasizing the geometry of your exquisite shoulders. 
Your skin perfect in the candlelight.

I imagine you, and I catch my breath as your fingers toy with the first in a line of buttons.

I have seen so much beauty.

But yours makes time stand still.

These days

These days I see you everywhere.

I catch a glimpse of you on the road, the route I take to work, the girl with a pony tail, pouting at a boy who doesn’t deserve her.

You are the pretty waitress who glides between tables and disappears behind the double doors to the noisy kitchen and does not re-emerge. Even though I dwell forever over my coffee.

You are the svelte, stunning, fresh-skinned singer in the shortest of skirts reciting some song I can’t remember You catch my eye momentarily and heart-stoppingly thirty times at once in a store selling televisions.

As I close my eyes on the bus home and let the music in my headphones fill my ears you are the first image to transform the darkness, dancing to your favourite song.

Your fingers are toying with the buttons on your shirt.

I see fragments of you everywhere. But they are just fragments…

And you are so far away.

Moving On

‘I gave you everything’

She tried but she couldn’t hide the slight tremor in her voice. It made her lower her head. She halved a breadcrumb on the table with her thumbnail, and then flicked it away. She picked up her glass and gripped it like a microphone.

He studied her face. He could read it perfectly, but always found something new written upon it. He considered his reply.

‘You gave me no more than you wanted to give.’

‘But you gave me nothing!’

Her retort was angry, sharp. Even as it left her lips she was sure it wasn’t entirely true. She replaced the words with a mouthful of wine. It followed what she had already drunk and went straight to her head.

‘I gave you everything I could give.’ His reply was gentle and yet weary. This was not a new conversation.

She thought about what he had said and felt locked down by it. She shook her head as if freeing herself to speak. ‘It wasn’t enough.’

‘Yet it was more than you expected, more than you hoped.’ He paused. It sounded defensive, and yet it wasn’t a defence. ‘It was more than I ever promised,” he whispered, carefully blunting a wooden cocktail stick into his plate

There was a long silence. The tension was palpable and seemed to fill the restaurant. It kept the waitress away.

‘I need you,’ she told him, her soul laid bare.

‘I am here.’

‘No.’ She spoke with absolute certainty. ’You are never here.’

Mistake

At what point does he realise?
Is it when he wakes to find she has left no word?
No gentle mailed reminder of her gorgeous presence.
Is it when he points the car towards the office and the first song on the radio has an image of her in every line?
Is it when he finds himself comparing every woman he sees with the absolute glory of her face and form and finding others utterly wanting?
Is it when her smile and scent dull his defences and he can’t stop her from climbing into his thoughts and curling up in his heart?
Is it when he goes to sleep and she is the last thing he thinks of as he closes his tired eyes?
At what point does he realise
He has made such a stupid mistake?

PROVE

I have nothing to prove to myself
A warm but insistent breeze is testing the new leaves.
Wispy white clouds are sailing across a wide sky.
The sun is tenderly stretching the skin of my face.
I shade my eyes as it rises above the silent house.
He tilts his laptop to better see the screen.
I types words quickly as I have always done,
tapping harder for emphasis.
As if it will underscore the letters.
Until my limited attention span is spent.
Yawning, I survey my mailbox for the last time.
I stand and stretch my denim clad legs.
I raise my arms above my head in a primal salute
to distantly approaching summer, catching the a scent of it on the dancing air.
I exhale slowly, letting my thoughts and emotions float away on my breath.
I snap the macbook shut.
I have nothing to prove to himself
I have nothing to prove to anyone.

ACHE

I forget how lovely she is.
Our lives only touch at the edges.  
I have not seen her for days.  
She only visits me in my imagination.  
I could not fully recreate her perfection in my fantasies.
So when we met inevitably yet unexpectedly, 
I was knocked sideways by the collision.   
I was stunned by the lithe and elegant sensuality of her body.  
My breath  stolen by her brown-eyed beauty.
I was blown away by her smile.
I cannot understand why every man does not ache for her.
As I do.

Memory

I had thought to capture—the moment,
however fragile or fleeting,
and feel it move between the palms of my hands.
Soft and silent, like a moth
with wings fluttering–yet frightened
as it searches for light in the darkness of my skin

Drain

Sometimes the day drains me.The early morning alarm, urgent and insistent, 

to steal my dreams before the day has made up its mind. 

The long drive, full of music failing to mask the rising clamour of mail, phone and text.
The relentless passage of meetings, presentations, discussions and decisions, The motivating, the cajoling, the guiding, the occasional steely imposing of my authority. The responsibility of many eyes seeking direction.
The pace of the afternoon, the challenges, the opportunities, the brave victories, the sapping defeats. Success resting on a knife-edge. Before the journey home, the last of my energy slowly retreating from me.
I sip my juice and stretch out, long-limbed, weary, heavy-eyed, tired to the bone
Sometimes the day drains me.
I think of her and then smile.

30 Days of Truth - Day 7

Day 07 - Someone who has made my life worth living

I think worth comes from many things and as such, there are people that have made my life worth living. My baby brother, Elijah, and baby sister Mutinta have enriched my life so much. He loves talking, which gets on my nerves sometimes, but its one of the things I miss the most when I'm not home. He is way too mischievous. For instance, he threw batteries in a brazier to try and charge them, he won't be doing that again after that explosion. I have learned to appreciate how we all grow to become individuals. From the time I held him, I have always looked out for him and wanted to give him the best I can. Then there is the little princess who insists I call her my beautiful sister. She has a mind of her own at an early age and is quite dominant and stubborn (kaya whose genes). She is only four but trust me, she is a load to handle. These two will have their future relationships and attitudes on life shaped by my actions. I want to be the best brother I can be to both of them. My 2 close friends, Mulele and Bwalya are lunatics! but they have given me support when I was at my lowest. Without them I would have lost my mind. Oh and Regina and Chomba for encouraging me to write poetry.
Blue, for making me a better man. One that understands and treats women with respect

There's more but that is all I want to talk about now.

Not Today

I will not think of her today.
I have far too much to do.I will not think of her sitting opposite, 

her delicate fingers wrapped around a glass of juice. 

 And then her leaning back, capturing her hair, 

guiding it over one shoulder, baring her gorgeous throat.
I will not recall her laughter, bubbling up, 

making her eloquent brown eyes dance, 

and bringing an immediate smile to my lips.

I will not call to mind her voice, 

its honeyed sweetness and warmth 

so softly caressing me.I will not check my mail, nor my phone, now and again, 

just in case, on the off-chance, even knowing she cannot make contact.
I will not remember how she put her arms around my neck 

the last time we were out, in the town beside the road. 

I will not summon up the delicious frisson of that divine, intimate moment.
I will not remind myself that we held hands briefly, 

in my car, between my shifting gears.
I will not imagine her in a blue dress, 

the tight silky bodice highlighting her lovely breasts and tiny waist.
I will not remember her achingly perfect body beneath it.
I will not, will not, will not conjure up memories of that night …
I will not think of her today.
I have far, far too much to do.

I will miss her

I do not want her to go. 

I will miss her.I have never felt like this 

towards a woman who is not a lover before.
For she is not mine. She will never be mine again. 

Not for one borrowed, quiet, holy, sensual afternoon. 

Not for one stolen, sultry, breathless, decadent, velvet night. 

Not even for a long, heart-stopping, eloquent kiss.
If I hold her gently in an embrace it will be chaste and clothed, 

even with her beautiful, sweet head resting upon my chest.
Yet I have offered to her my total, unconditional, non-judgemental, non-physical friendship. 

A rare gift that I barely recognise let alone know how to bestow.. 

I usually fear the burden of dependence, the demands of alliance, 

the pressure of association, the discomfort of company, 

the weight of expectation of any friend. 

I am a solitary, self-contained creature, 

whose brave society skills hide a fierce isolated independence of spirit. 

I avoid duty and obligation.

But I want her to feel close. 

I want her to feel utterly at ease in my company. 

Not to fear me in any way. To trust me without question. 

To know that she is protected, safe, guarded, sheltered. 

To sense the cloak of my protection around her. 

To understand and be glad, and perhaps proud, that I am her guardian, 

her sometime companion, her occasional partner in small crimes, 

her now-and-again shoulder to lean upon, 

her meillieur ami, her confidant, her amigo, her chum.Her shirt-front to soak with tears. 

Someone with whom she can always laugh at the world.
I do not want her to go.
Yet however far away she is, 

however remote, however distant – 

even if we never meet again – 

I hope she will believe in the forever certainty 

of my genuine friendship and deep affection. .

Her smile

In the dark
my fingers found
the curve
of her smile.

It climbed
like the sun
across her face
and lit the night
as if it were day.

30 Days of Truth - Day 6

Day 06 - Something I hope I never have to

• Bury any of my children
• Take a life regardless of the situation
• Cheat on my wife
• Raise spoiled children

These are the main things I hope I never do

30 Days of Truth - Day 5

Day 05 - Something I hope to do in my life.

This should be changed to "somethings".

• First and foremost, I really want to get an Aston Martin Rapide. I know it's pricy (€270,000) but come on, we all have targets.
• I want to open my own bank and if that fails, a micro finance institution
• I hope to retire from active employment rather young.
• I hope to be done with the bulk of my education (BSc, MSc, MBA, CFA, etc before 30)
• Have 5 children (depending on wifey)
• Be an awesome dad, one that my children will look forward to seeing
• Visit the Tonga Islands.
• Open a Business College or University
• Watch the NBA, NFL and Rugby World Cup live
• List a company on the stock exchange
• Become fluent in Tonga, Lozi, Nsenga, French, Portuguese and Spanish maybe swahili too
• See the great pyramids
• Beat Mundia at MK 3 
• Visit the Bahamas, Hawaii
• Learn Kendo

Let's end here. Might spend the whole day writing stuff.

Dust

He wonders at what cost another betrayal?
After all, there is so much guilt already stored and racked, 

preserved like wine in that chilly cellar. 

Familiar labels attest to provenance and vintage. 

The bitter grapes of pointless affairs, 

doubtless sour to the palate after all these years. 

Yet they were so delightful on the tongue 

when lust and passion first pressed the juice from their fleshy skins.
Far too many bottles of treachery are stretched in countless rows, 

categorised by time and place, half-remembered lovers, 

and half-forgotten summers. 

And proof of sin.
All gathering dust in his dark soul.

Dark

I had thought to capture the moment,
however fragile or fleeting,
and feel it move between the palms of my hands.
Soft and silent, 

like a moth with wings fluttering–yet frightened
as it searches for light in the darkness of my skin

Your Name

When I hear the sound of sadness. 

And the light is broken
by the silence of the trees.
I know all the birds have flown Away.
Their wings like words whispering
Your name

30 Days of Truth

Day 04 - Something I have to forgive someone for.

Bae for cheating on me. I don't have a grudge against her, just disappointed I guess. 

30 Days of Truth

Day 03 - Something I have to forgive myself for

Whoa, this is difficult. It's not everyday you dig up things you have buried very deep. This is hard. When I was younger my young brother was my only friend. We played together, got in trouble together, my partner in crime. Anyways, one day we were running around the yard and I guess I wasn't paying much attention to him and a grill door fell on his thumb splitting it right in the middle. Maybe it wasn't my fault, maybe it was. That is one. An old flame got pregnant (no it isn't mine). My indecision and unwillingness to let her in probably let to her getting pregnant. A friend told me that if it wasn't with the other dude, then it was going to be me. We just do not realise how much our decisions or lack of them affects other people.

One thing I know for sure is that I have beat myself up for a very long time about the choice that I have made and the opportunities I let slip. I know I need not do that but I don't know what causes me to place so much blame on myself. Sometimes I think to myslef, "It could have been worse, cheer up," but that doesn't ease me or put me at peace with what has happened. Self, you are forgiven. Self doesn't buy that. While I am trying to make peace with myself, as slow as that maybe, let's go to day 4

Regrets?

Would it have beenbetter left unsaid.

Would it have beenbetter left unseen.
To have never
heard your voice.
To have never
felt your touch.

Regrets?...never.

In honour of Friday

grateful not to be
en route to unemployment
eager for Monday

Why so serious?

give seriousness
the break it truly deserves
dare to be silly

The Last Time

The first time
you took him inside you
was the last time
I could ever desire you.

Strangers I Know

These strangers I feel I know 
These people I overhear 
With whom I exchange a few words 
A smile 
A glance 
Share moments 
These people next to me 
Something about this place rings us here as we are 
Different as we are 
Tied 
Human kind 
Zambian 
Linked by One 
We are all here 
Different kinds 
Searching for our own happiness 
Separate lives 
Chance encounters 
Moments of togetherness 
At the place we all love 
Young and old 
Women and men 
Differences cast away 
We are connected 
By this place 
By Zambia

30 Days of Truth

Day 02: Something I love about myself

There are loads of things I love and like about myself. I'll try and keep it short. I will push until I cannot push anymore. I am determined and love proving people wrong. I don't take being told that me accomplishing something is impossible. I have done before and I will do it again! I tend to overwork myself and feel the need to constantly keep busy. Don't get me wrong I have and love my lazy days (Sundays) but the need to be doing something leaves piles of things I must do constantly. Oh well, you know what they about an idle mind being the devils workshop

30 Days of Truth

Day 01: Something I hate about myself.

Well it used to be my skin colour, but I love that now. I am seriously finding it hard to find something that I hate about myself, dislike yes, hate no, which I suppose would lead me to the one thing that bugs me the most about myself which is indecision. Not to say that i don’t make decisions, but it takes me an innordinate amount of time to come to one. I tend to belabor my choices for way too long. Especially with projects, and I will do this with the smallest things. I end up forcing myself to make choices. this becomes much harder as things become more important. I suppose I could look at it as a good thing, but it really does wear on me over time. just make a choice and stick with it…. do it, do it now, and move on to the next thing…. how boring am I? I thought about this and then was like well maybe that’s not the thing, then again…. see? lol…. on to day 2, i’m leaving this one in the past now…

Slipping

I know she is slipping away.
The pauses are longer, 

the messages shorter.
I can feel the cooling of her heart in the May breeze that brushes my face. 

I can see the waning of her desire in the shrinking moon. 

I can sense the lack of her attention in my empty dreams.
I will never be a victim.
Undercover of darkness I build a boat from my words.
At dawn launches it upon the still and waiting, inky waters.
I do not look back.

Pictures and Sounds

The sun has set hours ago. I am falling asleep.
This reminds me of the colors of the sun.
A beautiful sunset.
I seem to remember the blaze of the waning sun.
As you left that first day. I was dipped in love.
My mind was drenched with the sight and taste of you.
I doubt you knew how much you had affected me.
A charming and beautiful girl, way beyond my reach.
I could only dream I would see you again.~

~ Would you have come back again, if you knew how much I already loved you?

One Day

One day, I'll dialogue with you face to face,
however, my cowardice exceeds my fortitude
one night you'll drive with me from place to place
but for now I am on an imagined longitude
one life we'll walk a love together, pace to pace
with a monogamous and purposeful attitude
yet somehow I have already loved you
I just need to prove it to you at some point, but not now.

Change

She watched him with curiosity,
wondering when he would muster the courage
to stand up and say hello.
Just one little word,
was all she needed;
five letters, a simple –
“Hello.”
Startled,
she took a step back and froze.
Was this really happening?
Was her waiting finally over?
Before she could think,
before she could speak,
he was saying his name
and asking for hers.
What should she say?
What could she say?
Her voice had already gone.
So all that escaped her dry parchéd mouth,
was a raspy and ugly old
“Hi.”
But of course that was not, her actually name,
and her face flushed furiously red.
She wanted no more
than to run out right then;
she wanted no more
than to die.
But die she did not,
and her voice did return,
and she managed to
tell him her name.
And from that moment on
they were never the same,
for everything had changed.

Only a sigh

It was just the scent of her.A faint memory of a moment. 

A whisper of her presence. 

The slightest movement as she passed.
It made me catch my breath. 

It sent a shiver dancing through me. 

It made me close my eyes 

and shake my head.She is achingly beautiful. 

A wild, untamed, exquisite beauty beyond words. 

Beyond compare.
Beyond me.
She vanished so quickly 

that I know I must have dreamed her.
I am left with only a sigh.

Over You

She caught my eye
She’s something new.
A different dress.
A different shoe.
And now I know
I’m over you.

I gave her words
Like I did with you.
A different smile
A different view
And now I know
I’m over you.

She broke my heart
Far worse than you.
A different pain
A different blue.
And now I know
I’m over you.

Benign

We are talking again.No, not exactly talking. 

After a long silence 

we are exchanging e-mails.

Her name seems familiar 

yet strange in my in-box. 

Predictable but somehow alien, 

disconnected, out of time and out-of-place. 

Yet my phone was once alive with her – 

buzzing with long, longing phone calls, 

humming with text upon text,

Now it makes a single, anonymous note, 

no different from the correspondence of others, 

or the facebook notifications, or the twitter alerts.

The letters of her name beneath my fingers 

are like empty shells stripped of everything 

they once signified. 

They no longer represent the passion, 

the desire, the hunger, 

the love that once electrified each often-chanted, 

beloved, cherished syllable.

Their power has gone. 

They are benign, safe, neutral.It is past. Over.
Today she suggested meeting…