You are…

Let me be the person that tells you, every single morning,
that you are both beautiful and remarkable.


Some day people will ask, ‘what inspires you the most?’ I will turn, look at you, and without having to say one word, they all will know my answer.

The Long Goodbye

Unable to hold back my tears, as I packed a suitcase. ‘Why are you leaving? This just makes no fucking sense!’ You are yelling, taking things out of the suitcase, as I put them in. I have to admit, it made no sense. None whatsoever. I am in love with you. There is no doubt in my mind about that and have been since that first day you spoke to me. I knew that I wanted to marry you even before our first date. When I’m with you, when I’m holding you in my arms, when I’m kissing your lips, when I’m close to you, my world is complete. And that is the issue, without you, I am not whole. I am not free.

But I don’t say any of that. It wouldn’t help you to understand any better. Instead, I close my suitcase, and leave the house, our house, knowing that I’m leaving behind things I will never recover, and drive off hoping that I can make myself complete without you.


With each kiss, I expect you to turn this old toad, into a Prince.

But with each kiss, I become a King.

The Jazz Singer

If I won’t be remembered for my songs,
I want to be remembered for your words.

Never stop talking my love.
Never stop.


Sarah’s Poem

img_0516Your love is like a rose.
With each touch,
your thorns make me

My love, a deep red.
As deep and as the red as the Blood at the Cross, bleeding (and dying) for your sins.

Your love is like a rose.
I give you my light, my sunshine.
You grow before my eyes,
as you wilt in my hands.

I am your reservoir.
You drink.
And drink.
And drink.
And drink, until I run dry.
And still thirsty, you drink more.

Your love is like a rose in winter.
Grey, cold…lifeless.

I am your gardener.
I see your beauty during the long, cold winter days and nights.
I value your nakedness, your vulnerability.
I am your protector.

Your love is like a rose.
You only know when to love when things are good.
That’s when you bloom, with your petals ruby-red,
as ruby-red as the Blood at the Cross.

Your love is like a rose.
Each day,
you dying

*This poem is not about a ‘Sarah.’  But the real Sarah, Sarah Haines, who challenged me to write this, my second poem, by giving me the opening line, “Your love is like a rose…” and told me to run with it.  And to her I am, as the cliché goes, I am eternally grateful.

You Won’t Let Me


I turn the page.

You turn it back,
your hands dirty with old ink.
You let go of your future, so you can hold onto the past.
I want to dance, but my legs won’t let me.


The smell of yesterday’s worries.
I worried too, not for me, but for you.
Worried with songs and laughter, not for you, but for me.
I want to sing, but my voice won’t let me.


I feed you a taste of your tomorrow.
This is your chartered trip to your undiscovered lands.
I watch you cry.
I want to speak, but my mouth won’t let me.

I am your pod.

Consume, replicate and then duplicate me.
You cling to my future, so you can hold onto your past.
I want to breathe, but my lungs won’t let me.

Empty words.

You feed me your empty words.
I take your words and fill them with meaning.
My meaning.
I want to hate you,
but my legs,
my voice,
my mouth,
my lungs,

and my heart

won’t let me


The Other Day I Wondered

40d16a01-3944-4ec4-8736-e7fcabf663ccThe other day I wondered, who you spent Valentine’s Day with?
Was it a him?
Was it a her?

I wondered the other day, was that look for me, or was that look at me?
Did I mis-judge your smile?
Your stare. That stare, was it in my mind?

The other day I wondered, if you knew, I once stared (and stared),
and stared, at the back of your neck, waiting to ask if you needed a seat.
I lie, I just wanted to know if you needed my seat. Instead, I sat.
And I sat. And I sat, eyes closed, listening, listening, listening.
I listened to your voice.
I watched. I watched as you found another, a seat that is.

My first of, what I now know, many chances, gone.

I wondered the other day what it would be like to lay next to you. No I lie, I wondered what it would be like to lay with you, entangled, enveloped; to look in your eyes; to kiss your lips, your neck; to touch your skin;


The other day I wondered,
do you even know,
I exist?

My Never Ending Poem

My ears may never fall upon you again.
And for that, I want to create something that is lasting, perennial.
For you, my words have no beginnings, and no endings.

They are timeless.

If I could, I would leave everything to you.
I gave you a song, I give you my words.
When I am gone, the words written about me, will be all about you, there will be no question.

Some days, I spell out your name, in my mind, over and over,
and over again, making each letter consonant with each vowel sound, open, never closed.
I close my eyes, hoping the letters you give me will never end.

A memory of me laying with you, locked in an embrace,
listening, like a voyeur, to your breath, each exhale becoming my inhale.
I mourn that you are not with me.

I see your picture.
I close my eyes, and frame your voice,
your deep, deep voice.
I close my eyes, never to open them again.
For you, my poem will never end.