I miss you.
Like the flowers miss the morning dew.
Like the night sky miss the dawn's blue.
Like the desert sands miss November rain.
Careening through the universe
Upon my steed of rhyme and verse
A wretched poet’s fated curse
O such a state, there is non worse
I called just now… just to say
Just to say… what I have to say
I hope you don’t think me rude
For calling at this time, for being such a prude
Tottering on the edge of oblivion
A cliff over a pool of infinite thought
To jump would be to embrace it
The possibility of infinity
Tomorrow is fast approaching.
with every minute disappearing,
and every second dissipating.
we are left anticipating,
She sat at the far end of the room, decked in pink
Her eyes directed at the floor, her face locked in a contemplative smile
And with a sudden, graceful twist of her head,
Punctuated by the soft bounce in her hair as she swung around,
I got lost in the infinity of her eyes.
A vision one could never despise.
She held me, and I held back.
The melancholy has left me.
My sole inspiration to write.
What now of my pain poetry?
In which all my sadness takes flight.
Wretched and putrid, it made its way across the alley,
Straight into a pile of synthetic filth and human garbage,
And as I continued on my way
It popped its head out and stared directly into my eyes.