he felt secured,
everything he ever wanted.
To be away, far from the world
was what he thought, he wanted the most.
But not so long he found out
he had built something
so beautiful, so magnificent,
something he could not escape.
The curse of loneliness.
He had on his own shouldered solitude,
and the weight was now becoming too heavy.
With no one to share this burden
he became sad,
he wondered why he never thought to build bridges.
The Best Of Us
Oh, Lucifer who will love you.
Who will hold you when the night falls cold, you self
righteous soul.
Do you not see the wind around.
Why does everyone run from you?
Your heavenly wings glow with such darkness.
And the people will cast stones all around you,
they do not know you bleed scarlet as they do.
But even the best of us holds a bit of darkness that the
light cannot reach.
Where The Red Thorns Grow
Alas, my dear moon,
I will take you to the fields of my heart,
you must promise me
not to shut your eyes.
There are things I must show you.
I need you to see
Where the red thorns grow.
In a grassy field awaiting the snow
where the colors hide
ashame of its glow.
In a night where the day will never come.
Where hearts are ridden in pain bereft of
love to heal
Of all the dames who came to see none could
bear to look.
My heart is laid to rest underneath this
graveyard, a place where an ocean once rose,
and love effortlessly flowed.
Please you must see.
Lady Midnight.
Sometimes I wonder
If the night curses
the day in spite for
leaving her in darkness.
Maybe like the rest of us she knew
she was always
destined to be alone.
And even when the tide changes
everyday,
she's forced to repeat
the cycle without hesitation.
el romántico Solitario
My heart is fickle like a romantic.
I love everything too greatly,
and even when they leave
me
cold,
and shivering
in the night.
I can't help but wonder
if they found a little
warmth in the darkness.
Haunted
The sounds of your falling tears
will remain the
saddest memory
I've ever had the misfortune of carrying.
Although I turned away in silence after words
Unspoken.
The moment still haunts me.
Kindness for ashes
What is thought to be love, when humanity is
desolate.
The grasses are no longer green,
and the earth will fall from its axis.
The mountains will give way.
And all who lived left nothing but sorrows, they loved
as selfishly as they could, but they left her lonely,
laughing through their crooked teeth.
She's the lonely outcast with too many neighbors,
too many of whom, who cared too little for her.
She watched from the shadows and gave to them all
she could.
But daily she is cut down by the roots and made into
ashes.
Her name, vilified by men whom she loved and
sheltered with her branches.
All this for her kindness.
The Color Of Broken
Sometimes beauty exist
only in the shadows
of haunted lovers
and memories long forgotten.
And if I should find
life only interesting
at the end of a whiskey bottle,
it is because I'm broken.
PART 3
A Chapter For Other Poems
"Art takes time—
Monet grew his gardens
before he painted them."
—Atticus
Dear Reader
years later,
when we've found love hidden
beneath our lonely hearts.
The end I promise you, will not be so fatally tragic.
Those Wishes We Made.
Wishes are stars that faded before touching the skies.
If only we had prayed a little,
loved a little.
Maybe then,
maybe just then,
those wishes would have soared through.
The tale of the boy who would not move
When love inspires
a fool to jump through hurdles.
He sits in a dream,
waiting on Neverland,
like a boy with a broken bow.
And if someday destiny should ever call,
I hope he won't sit still, waiting for a past love
that is now long gone.
I feel like an empty shell of glowing shadows.
dancing through the night,
trying to make sense of the beauty
before my eyes.
My love,
my dear star,
you stand all alone in the dark
and yet you shine.
Untitled
Somewhere deep down you know
your gods are murderers,
your heroes are scared,
your dreams are an illusion,
your love is ephemeral,
your lies are detrimental.
For who walk through a field of thorn
blinded, without the lights.
We are colorful playthings.
A cheerful expression of a dying universe.
We don't mind the ride before the
darkness.
We just dance.
The starry truth
I'm sorry for the tears,
beautiful things often make me cry.
Ever since I was a boy
I've always thought of beauty as the most compelling
force of nature.
The Starry truth is no one ever hated the night sky,
because beauty exists everywhere, even in the
simplest of things,
the ones we overlook without appreciation.
You don't even need to wander off into the streets of
Paris or the intricate structures of Rome
to know that beneath you, above you and within you
it's there,
if only you just look.
December
It was cold in December.
but the heavens dared to send forth rain,
within blowin' winds of harmattan.
crying between bounties of heavenly rain,
came the darkened clouds roaring heavily across the
northern skies.
Lonely, lonely the heavens cried.
Love and ash
When the night falls into the day,
the world becomes lonely,
And lovers become poets.
Was not true love meant to be destroyed,
in the end when we all become nothing but ash.
Woman Made.
One time I died,
but twice you came.
And three times I had to mourn.
For
