Come Back With Me

I’m sorry I’ve been so distant
Wallowing in the marsh of perpetual stress
Held by the world under endless duress.
I forgot that I wasn’t alone
You’re out there juggling my problems
Struggling in your own time to solve them.
We have both been remiss
Neglecting happiness for another’s satisfaction
Denying what calls to our attraction.
I want to let you in again
The layers of my mind peeled back once more
I bare myself and expose my core.
Only with you I share me
I plead be careful of my vulnerable state
I’m back and benevolent and easy to break.



Must I speak in poems for you to hear me
Or do you ignore me intentionally
I left out punctuation so you could criticize
With your critical gaze and concrete eyes
Is that what it’ll take to earn recognition
Do you find that finding faults is your greatest mission
I don’t mind being wrong to learn what is right
You should cast away pride and take on this sight
To see that I care not for your amendments
Or your inconsiderate comments
I only wish that you would take the time
To notice that you’re the rhythm to my rhyme
For I can see beyond your cynical mask
You have a heart a soul and a broken past
I can pick up the pieces and bring you home
Because just like you I too am alone

My Time

How silly I must look

Entirely unbalanced and

Teetering on the precipice of life

With these legs made of rubber

Unable to support these arms of lead

And an empty heart

Incabable of leading this bursting mind

Would it really be so bad if I just


Then your hand grips my arm

Bringing balance to my life once more

And your eyes find mine

Encouraging me to live

And your heart

Your heart

Is what inspires me to save others

From slipping through the cracks

As you did for me


There is no one to follow

No example to live by

No footsteps to fill.

Just as well there is no one to lead

No one to guide

I am no one’s example of anything.

Perhaps that makes me an example of nothing

Or does that simply make me alone

Crying internally for external affection?

Metaphorically Speaking

 I am a poem

I am several similes

With all my similarities

To the natural

And the fabricated artificial

I am the dramatic hyperboles

Life’s entertaining comedies

And simply bringing theatricality

To the dullness of reality

I speak with a genius of jargon

Or in slang without begging pardon

So long as you can understand me

I’m speaking to you directly

I am the most vivid imagery

When you look at me can’t you see

The shooting stars in my eyes

That shoot for dreams beyond our skies

I am the complexity of poetry

The angst of burning curiosity

For I’m about to throw a wrench in this flow

In the next five lines or so

I am this extended metaphor

But I ask something more

After the metaphor’s validity

If I’ve just mentioned it previously

Does the poem lose all meaning?

I desperately need some answering

I’m not worthless or meant to be forgotten

If indeed I am this poem

From A Modern Day Juliet

Am I truly as low, as dirty, as stupid

As you make me feel when I say that

I love him?


Is it so vile, so disgusting, so damnable

An expression to you

That you should look down your nose at me?


How can something as precious, as sacred, as intimate

As what I share with him be snatched away so easily

By words slung from your contemptuous lips?


Is it wrong to feel so free, so loved, so safe

In his company so warm and open

That I should keep him a secret treasure?


Or perhaps if I should be with him

Would you rather have me not be at all

Would you rather me dead?


Of course, I kissed him without knowing his name

And I’ve made his acquaintance for only two days…


Never mind everything I was just saying

Please proceed with your life 🙂

Dream of a Haiku

Wracked with denial
I am unbelievably
Thoroughly shattered

Words around my lips
Beg to be spoken aloud
To refuse the truth

Dying in my throat
Words become without meaning
Utterly useless

Regrettably so
Though straightforwardly announced
Reality wins

My eyes are open
In the dark I give a sigh
It was just a dream

Flattering Lies

Elegantly, he knits words together
Weaves them in and out of each other
Crafting poetic tapestries

Yet he calls me a lyricist
Manifestation of a wordy goddess
Speaking in a language of prophecies

Distinctively, he paints the picture in my head
With vibrant strokes from his felt-tip pen
Writing me beneath high canopies

While he calls me a song
Notes masterfully strung along
Free to sing endless melodies

Eloquently, he adds simile to metaphor
Personifies all and opens each door
Giving sentences brilliant destinies

Still he calls me a bird
Soaring in the sound of every word
Charming all life with graced harmonies

Though I am simply a musician and he a writer
Our explosive imaginations held over a lighter
Trying to find fire in our dark realities


I am glad for his nearness.

His presence soothes my restless mind and reminds me that I am not alone. I must only inch my hand across these sheets to find the reassuring solidity of his body. Without this reassurance, I am liable to careen down a corridor of dark thoughts that shock even me.

How low I have fallen, to be fearful of my own thoughts, to be incapable of finding solace or silence in the spacious cavern of my mind. And sleep. Sleep never graces my loud consciousness with its gentle, drug-like allure.

When I am alone, I am always plagued with dark wishes that are not my own. Thus I have decided to not be alone whenever possible. That is why he is here, lying on my bed. I must be careful though. I might uwittingly consider killing him.

And follow through with it.

Just like I did with the others.


Dagger in my heart
One for each passing minute
Waiting in anticipation
Or dreading the inevitable

Minutes stretch into hours
Expand into days
Explode into weeks
Which stretch into months
Expand into years
Explode into decades
And crystallize in history

Where time is infinitely measurable
Finite is any individual’s time
My heart, by now
Has grown around these daggers
Embraced these scars
And called them beautiful