And Then There's You

There's not an abundance of things
that make me very happy.
There's my poetry, some songs,
and you.

There's not a whole lot of people
that I use to confide in.
There's my family, my dog,
and you.

There's but only a special few
that I think that I can trust.
There's my best friend, my sister,
and you.

There's probably just a handful
that I would give my life for.
There's Sharon (cancer killed her),
and you.

But there's only two that exist,
that I say I truly love.
There's me, and myself, and I,
and you.

Proof

I told you I was going to eat,
and then I left. The night air
was extremely cool
and I unfortunately had only a shirt.

It was an enjoyable cool however,
if not slightly foreboding.
Instead of turning back,
I decided to face fate that night.

I walked down to the Taco Bell
while listening to Hikaru.
Her soothing Japanese voice
was warning me to go back.

The lights of the parking garage,
behind where I lived, were like
bright warning lights.
But I didn't notice until later.

I ordered a chicken quesadilla,
even though the last one made me sick.
I was given order #13.
Then I got my food and left.

On the way back I noticed
that there were no stars in the sky.
Thinking it odd, I stopped,
and before I knew it, there he was.

He told me to freeze,
then held a gun to my chest.
He said to give him my wallet,
so I raised my fists to fight.

He insisted he would shoot me,
but hadn't done so thus far.
I thought of you for a moment.
About how sad you'd be if I died.

It was odd - that little moment.
Part of me wanted to die,
just to see if you'd miss me -
just to see if you really loved me.

Well, I do really love you,
so I did as he said.
I reached in my back pocket,
to grab my wallet in surrender.

I put out my hand,
and punched him straight in the jaw.
Walking back I smiled and thought,
about how hard you were going to hit me
when you found out what I did.
All because you really love me.

Dream Before A Dream

Even though you don't like it,
I still enjoy kissing the pearls
of sweat that form on you
while we work out together.

You lean over and ask,
if I'm ready to stop.
But I'm out of breath,
so I just keep going.

A while ago you told me,
that you weren't quite ready yet.
And so I waited for months,
just so you wouldn't fret.

Now it's never pressured,
something that comes and goes.
We don't have to say a word,
speaking with knees and elbows.

My favorite part of it all
is when you're lying on my chest,
breathing deeply in and out
as we soundly sleep and rest.

Glomp!

I'm sitting on the edge of our bed,
and you're sitting in a chair.
With the television droning,
you look at the ground and stare.

It's coming. You feel it,
and I feel it too.
It's coming. Tension.
Our hearts pump faster.

You crack a smile -
like a track pistol.
I begin to dart full speed
straight towards you.

You manage to turn half-way
before being smothered
by my arms, as they wrap
delicately around your body.

That is what I love,
That is love.
Glomp.

I close my eyes...

And there she is.
In an oversized blue sweater
with her unpainted fingertips
barely peeking through the sleeves.

Her movements are very quick
to get her ponytail tied,
and done with perfection
from nothing but memory.

There isn't a single flashy thing,
not even a pair of earrings.
There's not a dab of makeup,
just beautiful, wholesome skin.

She motions me over
and I realized then,
that she was mine -
and screamed of beauty.

Butterfly Sestina

It's not the first time I've been all alone.
Nor is it the first that I've missed you,
and the moments we spent together.
I spend this lonely day inside
watching over a single butterfly,
floating around outside in the air that's so cold.

I wonder if the butterfly is cold
from the weather, or from being alone.
How I wish to embrace the solemn butterfly,
and clutch it tight as if it were you.
It would be warm by the fire inside,
and at last we could be together.

My mind churns as my hands rub together
to keep my blood from getting cold.
I try to forget the feelings inside
that make me feel so alone.
I glance towards a portrait of you,
my last remnant, before going back to the butterfly

sitting on the window. Suddenly, the butterfly
is joined by a friend, and they sat there together.
I look a little more at the butterfly, then the visage of you,
and suddenly I don't feel so cold.
Perhaps, like the butterfly, I'm not really all alone.
Perhaps there's a piece of you still inside

of this room. Your smile emanates inside
my living room as I notice the butterfly
is now here with me. No longer alone,
I smile as we sit by the fire together
and let the warmth of love thaw the cold
thoughts that once surrounded my memory of you.

Now when my thoughts turn to you
I do not weep, but look inside
of my heart, where sweet, cold
pearls of memory blossom like premature butterflies.
I know we may no longer be together,
but that does not mean that I'm alone.

It isn't a bad feeling having those butterflies
fluttering around on the inside.
It reminds me that I'm not alone.

Things Go Bump In The Night

It's way too late
for me to be writing this.
There's no stopping
of my thoughts and feelings.

Here they come,
pouring out of me.
I would just as soon
hand you my diary.

What's on my mind
tonight?
What is it that you all
seem to want to hear?

The secrets, the love,
the betrayals, the drama.
Oh - it's happening,
I assure you.

And under no other circumstances,
would I ever dare tell you.
Even now I'm out of my right mind,
perhaps possessing a different one.

So what of my love?
Are you really one to judge?
I'll continue doing it,
because it makes me feel good.

What a sensational feeling it is
to know you aren't alone.
Sometimes all it takes
is bumping in to someone,
in the same darkness
that you are trapped in.

For The Best?

I want to apologize
for lying to you.
My insides are on fire
from breaking your trust.
Tears fill your eyes
and intensity rises.
You look at me like that,
like it's unbelievable.
We're simply too far apart
for this dream to come true.
We live in two separate worlds
that not even love can combine.
I hold you in my arms
and say 'Sorry' over and over.
If only I was born
in a different time and place.

I would have never had to say
that I didn't love you,
even though I do.

Sorry, But I Can't Help It

"Scoot over a little", she said,
"I'm smaller than you."
"That's all right", I replied,
"You can stretch out."

The crack in our window
which we've never had fixed,
allowed the cold winter air
to creep across our sheets.

I lend her most of my blanket
and her chest heaved a sigh.
"It's getting cold", she said,
"I'm fine, take some of mine."

So I took half of her blanket,
on top of all of mine.
At the sound of her sleeping breath
and the feeling of her shivering,
I wrapped both blankets around her,
and kissed her on the forehead.

Forced Emotion

It hurts me to see you
love that man. That man
I call a friend, and
who I could never betray.

If it was any other man,
I would take you far away.
My secret love for you
is growing by the day.

Friendship and love - Oh,
how complicated it's become.
To fulfill my heart's desire
I would have to stab a friend.

So incredibly difficult it is
to call you a simple friend.
I want it to be much more.
I want you to love me too.

I'll follow you wherever,
even if you're with him,
because I cannot help
but love you dearly.
I want you to love me too.

満月をさがして

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I was awake all last night
watching you sleep silently.
That was the last chance I'd get
before you left me forever.

The next day you said to me
that it wasn't goodbye at all.
But the waver of your voice,
and tears, said otherwise.

I have never cried as hard
as the day you left my life.
I know you cannot help,
where your adopting family lives.

I've found a family too since then,
but my feelings haven't changed.
I still remember your words
just before boarding the bus.

You held me in your arms,
soaked with the sorrow of my sobs,
and told me you loved me,
to which I had no reply.

From the moment the bus vanished
in to the infinite horizon and beyond,
I knew what it was I felt.
I loved you more than ever.

I've been desparately searching since,
so I can tell you what it is I feel.
If love was meant to exist
I know you will be waiting.

You not only filled the void
that fate stripped from my life.
You gave me hope, and love,
and courage to go on living.

Late at night, you used to point
towards the moon in the sky.
"We'll never be far from each other"
you said, as I gazed with all my heart.

To this day the only sight
that seems to soothe my soul,
is a full moon hanging in the sky,
and the hope you see it too,
and are thinking of me.

There's Nothing Else Quite Like...

When you're sitting warm and cozy
while rain beats down outside,
everything takes on a special glow
while the pitter-patter of water,
juxtaposes your calmness within.

How about while it is so cold
that a bear could freeze,
you lie snugly in your bed
with a fleece blanket wrapped
around you while you doze.

Remember those times when
you'd cry so hard? And,
do you remember the friend
whose shoulder you drenched?
There's nothing else quite like it.

Nothing at all can compare
to the sensation of holding
that special lover in your arms.
There's nothing else quite like it,
and there never has been.

Read You Like A Book

We sat in the same loveseat,
reading the same book,
about the same romance,
to the sound of a storm.

I admit that a few times,
I was reading you,
and not the book.
Please forgive me.

It was getting chilly,
and you leaned in to say,
it was my turn to get blankets,
and make the hot chocolate.

I left that warm loveseat,
and departed to our freezing kitchen.
I shivered as I made our drinks,
wishing I was back reading you.

Returning I saw you sitting,
covered by half of a blanket.
It wasn't the drink, or the blanket,
that warmed me in that moment.

It was when you glanced up,
and smiled.

I Woke Up Late

Monday morning - moody,
arising already annoyed.
Blurred, blaring broody,
diurnal doings destroyed.

Planned precursor perhaps -
Goofy God's game.
Cloudy conscience collapse,
Dearly dreaming dame.

Nothing, no noise,
Lazily lying - late.
Thoughts turn to toys,
Darting dreams deflate.

Going, going, gone,
feelings fading forever.
Yes - you yawn,
silent sentiments sever.

No, it's because I love you

I delicately form a cocoon,
with my arms,
around your body.
Is it because you're sad?

I gently rake your hair,
with my fingers,
so I can see your face.
Is it because you're sick?

I form a roguish grin,
with my mouth,
when you try to hide.
Is it because you're self-conscious?

I hold on to your waist,
with my hand,
until you're used to my touch.
Is it because you're passive?

No, it isn't anything like that,
and it never will be.

Jihad

He bides his time at the bus stop,
the one he's always used.
He looks around but when,
he doesn't seem them, he boards.

He goes to the middle,
where he always sits.
He greets his neighbor's child,
who is only ten years old.

He listens in to the driver's
funny jokes of the day.
They are the exact same ones,
he laughed to as a kid.

The bus stumbles along,
already on its final breath.
It turns down familiar roads,
the man has known all his life.

At a junction it passes a bus,
with even more people inside.
Explosion, fire, screams, death,
and possibly, for one, paradise.

Pending

This is all I have tonight,
the words on this page.
I'm alone in my own world,
as a good poet should be.

I write out all my problems,
hoping to feel better after.
'Tis still bittersweet, however,
I open my eyes and nothing's changed.

But just for tonight I wish,
I didn't have to write.
I wish that just for tonight,
my therapy was spoken aloud.

"Trust us."

She's flying so high in to the air,
free like a bird, high as a kite.
Something called an arabesque,
as the crowd ooh's and aah's.

Her arms begin to flail,
and her eyes widen.
She realizes on the way down,
no one will catch her.

She crashes on the asphalt,
breaking both hip joints.
Her legs flop around like jelly,
having lost their support.

Favorite to Forgotten

It's her favorite toy,
with those pliable legs,
and bendable arms.

She can style the hair,
in any fashion she desires,
only to get it messed up in bed.

Pulling on the invisible string,
she makes the toy say things,
like "I love you."

Like all the toys she has,
it goes on the shelf when she's through,
which is where I sit - collecting dust.

Get Back On?

I try to cope with all my problems,
and I assure you - I have lots,
by a phrase my momma used to say,
"You got to get back on the horse."

Well, my pants sure are dirty now,
stained with the mud of my failures.
But I know momma will wash them,
until they aren't dirty anymore.

There's nothing to ride now,
so what about what momma said?
And no one to wash my dirty clothes,
since momma and the horse are dead.

"Giddy-up! Giddy-up!", I yell,
to the motionless heap of carcass.
I guess since he doesn't budge,
It's time I learn to walk on my own.