Enjoy. Feel free to comment.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Delicate Touch

She held her hands
Like small cups,
To scoop up happiness.

And he took her hand
Like he would a feather,
Delicate to the touch.

She held his gaze.
Even with eyes closed,
She saw his face.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Empty Rooms with Windows

Bliss in your presence
And tears in your void.
Sadness always shadows.
'Tis something I try to avoid.

Don't twinkle your eyes dear.
I won't enter rooms of your heart.
I'll look through glassless windows
And this game I will not take part.

Because the key you hold
Is to empty rooms and windows.
I will not set foot on the stage
With an actor of many shows.

Photograph by Gary Crutchley

Old Scars

You tear scabs off old scars
That once sealed my, now, open heart.
Like stone slabs on mouse holes.
Smile, and slowly take them apart.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Like Silver

You wrap me in soft cloth.
And polish me like silver.
I beam when you hold me.
And every breath, thus, molds me.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

The Things I See

You’re always in sight:
A continuous thought.
And you might argue
That I blink a lot.

As if to say
That I don’t see
The way you are
When you look at me.

And darling know
That this is true
In those times I blink
I think of you.

Photography by Yana Yaroshevich

Monday, March 21, 2011

Crowded Room II

A crowded room is empty
And not a face is seen.
When sorrow overwhelmed me
Your eyes shined a beam.

Monday, February 14, 2011

How to treat a Lady

There is no mathematical formula
To make a girl smile,
Unless she likes math that is
Then you plus her would make her smile.


Just some advice
From a girl.
Take everything with a grain of salt
Don’t attach yourself to anything
But especially boys.
It’s exhausting,
To entertain the thoughts of
Entertaining boys.
Just sit there like a flower
And bloom
Don’t drown yourself in worries.
Because after all,
It’s not worth it.
You gotta rise above it and
Like a Water lily.
You got it…
Just sit pretty and wait.
Wait for your prince
Even if others say “he won’t come”
He will, and he has a white horse too.
A man worthy of caring for the most precious flower,
You, and your pure white soul.
His integrity and strength will fight battles for him.
And his actions will take place of his words
He will have a vision and you will be in it.

Sunday, January 30, 2011


They tell me stop but my heart unlocks the door every morning
And I glare through windows waiting for a knock on the door
Which never comes and wind blows through your void.
And dust covers the place where you once were.

And I simply sit in my chair with hands clasped
Knitting small memories together in my head.
I string them with threads of love.
It’s a blanket that will keep me warm at night.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Men Don't Ask For Directions

I don’t need a map, dear.
I’m making circles I know.
I’m lost in your eyes, love.
But I’m enjoying the show.

Don’t tell me to go left, dear.
Because it feels like it’s right.
I think I should rest now.
But I want you in sight.

I don’t need a map, dear.
I know the way now.
To be in your heart, dear.
The question is how?

Photograph by Randy Faris

Monday, January 24, 2011

My Heart


Tap tap
Triple flip.

Inner Beauty

Her feet glided over smooth pebbles
That scattered the floor.
The wind danced between her fingers
And she slowly swayed.

Her soft grace protected her soul
Like strong metal armor.
And she glowed of sweet aroma,
Laughing with children at play.

Men bowed in admiration
To the spotless soul that strolled their way.
And young girls, wide-eyed,
As the young lady drifted by.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Dear God

Your hands, cupped
To receive the little that I have.
The little that I’ve held back.

I open, clenched hands
That stayed that way for a while too long
Holding on to things that are not mine.

I unmask the face
That I’ve hidden from you
With decorations and definitions of beauty.

I cry the tears
That sweep through my steel doors
Into the arms of my Savior, my dear God.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Why I Write III

I scribble memories
And send them off in
Stampless envelopes

Covered in your name
With invisible ink
That stains my hands.

Stories A Boy Would Tell

I got a new one today.
A scar
Big and fresh.
A story I’m ashamed to tell.
A story of a broken heart,
Of a “love scar.”
But if a girl should ask,
I’ll just tell her I got bit by a shark.
“Yes Dear, that’s where I got my scar.”
Because she was a shark after all.
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