If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains

I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we

Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me

I was like a rain cloud over a small garden and dammit if you weren’t that garden so full of flowers that I fell in love

I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days

To put it simply each beat of your heart is a gift that I receive with the anticipation of a child at christmas