Sincerely

And some don't understand
that friendship can
be far more intimate,
enduring,
dependable,
sure,
than any sort of feigned romantic notion,
filled with
expectations and flutterings
that are sure to disappoint
and fade
in time.

Righteous Indignation

Smiling, attentive faces
all focused forward.
I think.
It seems.
Or are they contemplating
past wrongs,
hidden burdens,
pain unrevealed,
buried within their
hardened skulls
and caged hearts?

Untitled

And one has to wonder
if the intention was this.
Is it made for our happiness,
or only for his?
Oh the two are supposed
to be entwined, no doubt,
where noone is sad,
and noone wants out.
The blame can be thrown,
and rightfully so,
but once it's been caught,
one may still want to go.
So is this the norm?
The way things should be done?
with one conscience clear...
and one
ready
to
run?

Of Course I'm Happy for You

I thought of you
saying I Do
today.
Looking at her
the way I dreamed
you would
someday
take me in.
Your hands,
fitting together,
the way we
not so long ago
imagined ours.
And I cried,
knowing that what
was once
reserved for me,
has been
given,
gladly,
to another.

What he said

He said I do, but he didn't,
thinking it was too much honor,
not enough obey.
The thought of forever haunts
him, locking him
into a Stepford-husband world
of what should be.

The Point Where One Becomes Jaded

You turned the page,
and pinned the butterflies neatly
into your book of memories,
leaving me here with a
head full of verse,
and an
empty net.

Nevermind

As you talk
of signs,
and omens,
and next life reunions,
your speech slows,
and,
as smoothly as they emerged,
the words retreat,
as you inhale,
to
take
them
all
back.

You Know

You said,
Write one for me.
I couldn't.
A sign,
that what couldn't be written,
shouldn't be lived?
An indication,
that dedications
require truth?
The discovery
that perhaps
you are not my home?
I say,
as I inadvertently do your bidding,
Realize...
this is the last.

The Flood

Moment by moment
You race through my head.
Little by little
you seep in,
keeping me on a permanent high,
wondering when I will see you,
touch you,
hold you.
Will you be a dream realized,
or a fantasy unfulfilled?
Only time will tell,
and until then,
Moment by moment
I let you race.
Little by little,
I let you in.

Warning

dirt with pretty packaging
filth tied with a bow
don't you dare unwrap me
this present's just for show

place me high upon a shelf
look at me from afar
disappointment looms for those
who think that I'm a star

leave this gift upon its pedestal
display it there with pride
just don't allow yourself a glimpse
to see what is inside

for bows can be deceiving
and packages can lie
whats within will ruin you
so turn and say good bye

To Abby, and her funny pencil

My pencil is smiling up at me,
revealing thoughts held captive,
turning somersaults as he changes his mind,
ridding himself of perceived error.

He is alternately sharp and dull,
relying on inspiration for work,
and praying for deployment.
Laying in wait while images and syntax race,
yet quickly responding when called to serve.

His stature decreases as life continues,
the honing of his talents and
the consequence of mistakes
contributing.

Retirement comes only with
the disappearance of creativity,
the absence of invention,
yet still he smiles.

Unwanted Guest

The moments pass
and she wonders,
one more step,
one more smile,
how life would be altered.
The thoughts surround her,
encompass her,
not letting her escape.
The questions form,
dissipate,
and form again.
She pushes them away,
begging not to hear them.
Not wanting to entertain,
invite,
welcome the wonder,
she closes the door,
locks it,
and waits...
for wonder to knock .

Story of My Life

Give her nothing and
she runs with it;
give her the world and
she freezes, afraid.
Give her a moment,
she frantically fills it;
give her a day,
and she slumbers.
She knows not what she wants,
but aware she can't have it,
she slumbers, and freezes, and runs.

My Daughters on a Sunny Day

Purple umbrellas prancing,
bobbing up and down,
gesturing to each other,
moving in unison along the hedge.

High-pitched noises ripple,
emanate from below,
beckoning the other to follow,
each one making the same plea.

They part, if only
for a moment,
until a discovery brings the two,
like magnets, back together.

The canopies continue their pursuit,
seeing none but the other,
emerging from their universe
only with a gentle call inside.