My unadulterated penmanship
inks my lifeline with a steady beat,
punctuated not by your
smile, nor mine,
but rather through blips of
free write, characterizing
and ensnaring my essence along with
my pure thoughts allowing me to
abstain, from the hatred that I
see in your gaze.


Silent Ink

I saved these thoughts
reviving from the depths
of my irrelevant mind, then
expressed in my silent ink
and vocalized by others,
dead-set on personal interpretations
accusing me of victimizing myself,
I am fortunate though, as
sad emotions outweigh
feelings of nothing at all.


Downcast, I try to change my 
thoughts, eyes hanging down 
personifying those November skies whom 
coldly obscure the sun.

Downbeat, my eyes dance uneasy 
eventually tripping on themselves they fall 
onto your courageous smile, 
stealing them away from my irresponsible thoughts.

Downpour, emotional and artificial walls, 
barriers erected for solitude fortified and 
hardened from pain, instantly begin to 
smolder in flames. 

Upward, smoke-signals take flight 
signifying, above all else, opportunities.


I told you that 
I needed you in my life. 
You told me that 
you felt otherwise.
I told you that 
I would wait for you. 
You told me that 
you thought I should keep waiting.
I told you that 
I have the courage to try. 
You told me that 
you don't want to hurt my pride.
I said you would be worth it, 
You continued to run and hide.

Our Bed

If my feelings could move through the air
then maybe they could reach you,
the new-found black hole lives
between, threatening to swallow all of our,
no wait, my,
emotions before they can reach you.
Yet the sheets, they cover more than the
bed as they separate our bodies and our minds,
can you feel more than physical touch?
Can you feel my heart beating, as it
pulsates the air to its loving rhythmic
exuding only sweetness and softness for you
but as your cold words freeze the air
your stress-filled stares shoot down my feelings
and I am left laying awake in bed,
next to you yet alone, wondering,
are we really together?


True beauty is more than a quantity,
it cannot be defined as a combination of qualities
just as it cannot be contained by a shape, a form, or a single color.
Beauty is everything, everywhere, and nowhere
sights which astound and amaze do not appeal to
those who cannot see and so they cannot appreciate their
“beauty” yet to others beauty is an act.
A simple willingly done action giving form
to thought and creating emotions of joy that are described
in the only sense that they can be and that is beauty.
But beauty is not simply an action, nor is it a combination of
emotions, sights, pleasure, or actions
beauty penetrates and becomes someones soul since we are all
so why do I feel ugly, why does anyone feel ugly when beauty is
just living.