It’s

.

y

o

u

r

.

lead,

.

.

m

y

.

.

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

.

y

o

u

r

.

bait,

.

.

m

y

.

.

swallow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

swallow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

swallow

.

d

o

w

n

.

the

twisting

rounds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

swallow

.

d

o

w

n

.

the

ups

.

a

n

d

.

downs . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I
swallow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

.

y

o

u

r

.

bait,

.

.

m

y

.

.

swallow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

swallow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

.

y

o

u

r

.

lead,

.

.

m

y

.

.

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

follow

you

.

d

o

w

n

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wandering

turns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

follow

you

.

d

o

w

n

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

whirling 

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

.

y

o

u

r

.

lead,

.

.

m

y

.

.

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

follow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

.

y

o

u

r

.

bait,

.

.

m

y

.

.

swallow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

swallow.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2017 where the affected party repeatedly falls victim to outside influences – and has difficulty breaking the negative cycle.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

see

.

t

h

e

.

sunset 

s-c-r-e-a-m-i-n-g . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

sunset 

s-c-r-e-a-m-i-n-g . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

out

.

t

o

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

me,

.

.

f

r

o

m

.

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

sea . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

end

.

o

f

.

summer

.

i

s

.

drawing

near . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

autumn

.

o

f

.

our

days,

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

.

soon

.

b

e

.

here . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

autumn

.

o

f

.

our

days,

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

.

soon

.

b

e

.

here . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

see . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

feel . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

sweet,

–

–

teasing

ecstasy

–

–

between

you

.

a

n

d

.

me,

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

.

never

.

d

a

n

c

e

.

again

.

w

i

t

h

.

such

.

storming

intensity . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

=>>>>!ADVANCE!=>>>>

<<<<=!RETREAT!<<<<=

–

–

–

=>>>>!ADVANCE!=>>>>

<<<<=!RETREAT!<<<<=

–

–

–

=>>>>!ADVANCE!=>>>>

=>>>>!ADVANCE!=>>>>

=>>>>!ADVANCE!=>>>>

<<<<=!RETREAT!<<<<=

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

the 

thundering . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

the 

thundering . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

the 

thundering . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

all

.

a

n

d

.

everything

.

y

o

u

.

mean 

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

see

.

t

h

e

.

sunset 

s-c-r-e-a-m-i-n-g . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

see

.

t

h

e

.

sunset 

s-c-r-e-a-m-i-n-g . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Did

.

y

o

u

.

see

.

t

h

e

.

sunset 

s-c-r-e-a-m-i-n-g . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

always

comes

.

t

h

e

.

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

always

comes

.

t

h

e

.

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

always

comes

.

t

h

e

.

end . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

nothing

–

–

could

ever

.

b

e

.

as

.

good

again.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in September of 2016 where the contemplator looks back with sadness on a wonderful romance had in the past when realizing nothing else since has even come close to being as good. This was the third of three poems I wrote that were largely inspired by the movie: “Holding the Man.” I actually hated the title of this movie, but thought it was an excellent movie overall.

Together

.

w

e

.

walked

away

.

i

n

.

a

dazed,

–

–

shell-shocked

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

once,

–

–

angry

guns

.

o

f

.

blistering

.

r

a

g

e

.

pounding

.

o

u

r

.

resounding

love

.

o

f

.

nonconforming

disgrace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

day,

.

.

a

f

t

e

r

.

.

night,

.

.

a

f

t

e

r

.

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

then

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

.

silent

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

rubble

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

remained . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

rubble

.

o

f

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

presentable,

–

–

acceptable,

–

–

respectable

–

–

ways . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

e

–

–

–

once

learned

.

t

o

.

embrace

–

–

within

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

within

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

o

f

.

yesterday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

were

.

t

h

e

r

e

. 

with

.

t

h

e

.

haunting 

haze

.

i

n

.

the

air . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

attempting

.

o

u

r

.

escape,

–

–

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

gates

.

o

f

.

bitter

judgment

.

a

n

d

.

hate . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

suddenly

.

w

e

.

broke 

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

suddenly

.

w

e

.

broke

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

suddenly

.

w

e

.

broke 

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Freedom

came

.

o

u

r

.

way

.

t

h

a

t

.

day,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

we

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

return

.

t

o

.

that

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

take

.

m

y

.

hand,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

let’s

pick-up

.

t

h

e

.

pace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

exhilarating

wave

.

o

f

.

our

.

n

e

w

.

future

waits,

–

–

where

.

w

e

.

can

live,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

love,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

gaze,

–

–

without

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ where

.

w

e

.

can

live,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

love,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

gaze,

–

–

without

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

our

days,

–

–

which

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

remain.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in September of 2016 where the romantic parties bravely and unashamedly claim and passionately pursue their nonconforming love – even against the overwhelming forces of family and societal resistance. This was the second of three poems I wrote that were largely inspired by the movie: “Holding the Man.” This poem was primarily inspired by a specific scene in the movie: John leaves his home with Tim much to his father’s dismay. I actually hated the title of this movie, but thought it was an excellent movie overall.

I

still

.

remember

.

t

h

e

. 

turning

.

o

f

. 

the 

turn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the 

yearning

.

o

f

.

the 

yearn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it

hurts . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

even

.

a

s

.

one,

.

.

o

u

r

.

.

hearts

.

h

a

v

e

.

parted,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

we

.

c

a

n

.

never

return

.

t

o

.

the

.

w

a

y

.

things

started . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

e

n

–

–

–

we

.

h

a

d

.

breathless

pages

.

y

e

t

.

to

discover,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

so

feverishly

wished

.

f

o

r

.

none

.

b

u

t

.

each

other . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

At

first

.

t

h

e

.

curse

was

.

t

h

e

.

yearning 

turn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

later

became

.

t

h

e

.

turning 

yearn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

yearning 

turn

.

f

o

r

. 

something 

more . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

turning

yearn

.

f

o

r

.

the

days

.

o

f

.

before . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

turning

yearn

.

f

o

r

.

the

days

.

o

f

.

before . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it

hurts . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

we

.

c

a

n

.

never

return

.

t

o

.

the

.

w

a

y

.

things

started,

.

.

w

h

e

n

.

.

eager

hearts

thundered

.

d

o

w

n

.

the

runways

charted . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it

hurts . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

hurts

because

.

w

e

.

will

never 

laugh,

–

–

dance,

–

–

frolic,

.

.

o

r

.

.

play,

.

.

t

h

e

.

.

way

.

w

e

.

did

.

i

n

.

those

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

sun

.

w

i

l

l

.

solely

remain

.

i

n

.

that

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

never

shine

. 

t

h

a

t

.

way

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

shine

. 

t

h

a

t

.

way

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

turn

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

turn

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Today

.

w

e

.

share

.

t

h

e

.

hours

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

remain,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

it’s

not

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

it’s

.

n

o

t

.

the

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

search

.

f

o

r

.

that

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

search

.

f

o

r

.

that

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

search

.

f

o

r

.

that

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

forevers

.

s

o

.

warmly

embraced,

–

–

before

.

t

h

e

.

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ before

.

t

h

e

.

change,

–

–

when

.

t

h

e

.

bet

. 

w

a

s

.

placed,

.

.

t

o

.

. 

gamble

away

.

t

h

e

.

golden

grace,

.

.

o

f

.

.

a

.

young

romance

.

i

n

.

a

dance

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

dancing,

–

–

within

.

a

.

daydream 

trance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

dance

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

dancing,

–

–

within

.

a

.

daydream 

trance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

still

.

remember

.

t

h

e

. 

turning

.

o

f

. 

the 

turn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the 

yearning

.

o

f

.

the 

yearn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it

hurts.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2016 where the contemplator is haunted by, and looks back with, heavy regret on a wonderful romance experienced in the past – where some kind of change happened or was introduced at some point. And once that change occurred, the romance never had the same magic, warmth, passion, or luster ever again. The contemplator repeatedly revisits and, with a heavy heart, longs to go back and do something different so the change never happens – but there is no going back, and nothing can help in any way because the damage was done, and the change is now permanent. This was the first of three poems I wrote that were largely inspired by the movie: “Holding the Man.” I actually hated the title of this movie, but thought it was an excellent movie overall.

I

might

–

–

have

noticed

.

t

h

e

.

smile

behind

–

– 

your

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

promise
–

–

behind

.

t

h

e

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

it

was

.

t

h

e

.

shy 

goodbye

–

–

that

brought

.

t

h

e

.

tear

.

t

o

.

my

eye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ the

shy

goodbye

–

–

which

absorbed

.

m

y

.

mind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

haunted

.

m

y

.

hindsight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

it

made

.

m

e

. 

realize,

–

–

you

were

.

y

e

t

.

another

twilight

–

–

I

did

.

n

o

t

.

recognize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ another

–

–

deeply

dawning,

–

–

starlit

sky

.

o

f

.

lost 

opportunity

–

–

gone

by.

Reflection:  

This poem was written as a reflection on missed romantic opportunities. I had so many of those earlier in my life that in order to overcome my shy nature with respect to initiating conversations with others I did not know, I created and adopted the expression: “I’d rather try than be haunted by…” because the potential discomfort and awkwardness of trying and getting shunned was less painful than the haunting, restless thoughts of what might have been. So, it reminded me to always make my best effort no matter how awkward it might seem.

Now, the flip side of this was that I got so good at it that I ended up with a lot of acquaintances but not much more. So, several years later, I penned the line: “fewer, deeper” as my mantra to remind me to focus on a select few to have deeper relationships with.

The 

sweet,

–

–

sleepy,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

serene . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

r

e

–

–

–

the

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

.

drifting 

leaves

.

f

r

o

m

. 

the 

trees . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

–

–

–

drifting . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

–

–

–

drifting . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

–

–

–

drifting . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the 

breeze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

–

–

–

from

.

t

h

e

. 

trees . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

a

l

l

i

n

g

–

–

–

from

.

t

h

e

. 

trees . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

how

things

–

– 

used

.

t

o

.

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

drifting

.

i

n

.

the

breeze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

drifting

.

i

n

.

the

breeze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

drifting

.

i

n

.

the

breeze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

a

.

n

e

w

.

regime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ of

a

.

n

e

w

.

regime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

.

t

h

e

. 

sweet,

–

–

sleepy,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

serene . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

wake

to

.

t

h

e

. 

dying

green . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

wake

to

.

t

h

e

. 

dying

green . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

someone

else’s

dream,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

grieve

.

t

h

e

.

lack

.

o

f

.

peace

.

i

t

.

brings . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

– 

it’s

truly

.

n

o

t

.

where

.

t

h

e

y

.

otherwise

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

mean

.

t

o

.

be.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2016 in reflection of those who tend to go with the flow, complain when things don’t go their way, but rarely fight for much of anything. So, in short, they get what they get – and that is all.

It

was

.

t

h

e

.

urge

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

yearn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

heat

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

did

.

n

o

t

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

was

.

t

h

e

.

sip

. 

before

.

t

h

e

.

surge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

rapture

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

turn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

did

.

n

o

t

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

did

.

n

o

t

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

did

.

n

o

t

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

did

.

n

o

t

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

tomorrow 

arrived

–

–

again

today,

.

.

w

i

t

h

.

.

the

.

same

.

future

.

a

s

.

yesterday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ with

.

t

h

e

.

same

.

future

.

a

s

.

yesterday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

almost

.

found

.

a

.

way

.

t

o

.

pay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

almost

.

found

.

a

.

way.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in July of 2016 where the affected party struggles with a negative cycle-of-addiction on constant repeat which ends up consuming his/her life – leaving not much of anything left.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time

.

i

n

.

the

days

.

o

f

.

youth,

–

–

when

.

m

y

.

pages

exploded

–

– 

with

.

t

h

e

.

howling

tunes

.

o

f

.

wildly,

–

–

romantic

moons . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There 

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

now

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

a

r

e

.

not

.

a

s

.

new,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

I

begin

.

t

o

.

serve

.

a

.

colder

brew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

colder 

brew

.

o

f

.

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

a 

colder

brew

.

o

f

.

“truth”

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

thought

someday

.

.

I

might

return

.

t

o

.

that

room,

–

–

where

.

t

h

e

.

howling

wild

.

m

i

g

h

t

.

bloom

anew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

thought

someday

.

.

I

might

return

.

t

o

.

that

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

everyone

.

h

a

s

.

become

“too” . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Too

nice

.

o

r

.

too

cruel . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ too

determined

.

t

o

.

win

.

o

r

.

lose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Too

many 

issues

.

o

r

.

too

few . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ too

easy

.

o

r

.

too

difficult

.

t

o

.

choose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Too

much

.

o

r

.

too

little

.

t

o

.

prove . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ too

intent

.

o

n

.

using

.

o

r

.

being

used . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Too

intense

.

o

r

.

too

loose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ too

eager

.

t

o

.

make

.

i

t

.

happen 

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

If

you’re

going

.

t

o

.

race

around

madly

.

t

o

.

capture

romantic

moons,

–

–

you

better

.

d

o

.

it

soon,

–

–

while

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

a

r

e

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

better

.

d

o

.

it

soon,

–

–

before

.

i

t

.

becomes

“too” . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

know

–

–

it’s

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

know

–

–

it’s

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

know

–

–

it’s

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

i

s

.

not

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

everyone

.

h

a

s

. 

become

“too.”

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in July of 2016 where the romancer begins to realize romances do not come as easy as they used to – because over time preferences, experiences, expectations, reservations, histories, judgements, and such tend to get in the way.

Welcome,

.

m

y

.

sweet

tangerine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ welcome

.

t

o

.

the

house

.

o

f

.

dreams . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

e

r

e

–

–

–

everything 

comes

.

s

o

.

effortlessly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everyone

seems

.

s

o

.

young,

.

s

o

.

serene,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

so

.

i

n

.

between . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ so

carelessly,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

laughingly,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

breathtakingly

–

–

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ just

.

y

o

u

.

wait,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

see . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Now,

–

–

come

.

w

i

t

h

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you’ll

.

j

u

s

t

.

love

Ruby . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ well,

everybody 

does . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that’s

really

.

w

h

a

t

.

I

think . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

believe

.

y

o

u

.

will

.

s

o

o

n

.

agree,

.

.

a

n

d

.

. 

see

–

–

exactly

.

w

h

a

t

. 

I 

mean . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

e

c

a

u

s

e

–

–

–

she’ll

wrap

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ she’ll

wrap

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

her

spider’s

web . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ her

spider’s

.

w

e

b

.

of

fanta ~ tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

gently

easing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ gently

easing

–

–

chaos

.

i

n

t

o

.

clarity . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

bitter

.

i

n

t

o

.

sweet . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

worries

.

i

n

t

o

.

tranquility . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

when

.

s

h

e

.

becomes

breathless,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

restless

.

a

s

.

the

sea . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

taunting . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

teasing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

appeasing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

y

o

u

r

–

–

–

every

–

–

want

.

a

n

d

.

need . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

y

o

u

–

–

–

will

simply

–

–

never

wish

.

t

o

.

leave . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

wish

.

t

o

.

leave . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

do . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

when

.

y

o

u

.

do . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

will

probably

.

b

e

.

with

.

s

o

m

e

.

sense

.

o

f

.

serenity . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ with

.

a

.

passing,

–

–

peaceful

ease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

w

i

l

l

.

recall

.

t

h

e

.

way

.

y

o

u

.

feel

–

–

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

haunting

.

w

i

l

l

.

keep

calling . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

haunting

.

w

i

l

l

.

keep

calling . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

calling

.

y

o

u

.

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

calling

.

y

o

u

.

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

calling

.

y

o

u

.

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

the 

house . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ to

.

t

h

e

. 

haunting 

house

.

o

f

.

dreams.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in July of 2016 where the affected party has the tendency to flirt with that which is bad for him or her – and gets repeatedly drawn into the deep. It seems this will be a lifelong, all-consuming struggle and that the affected party will never be able to escape the grasp of temptation, addiction, compulsion, and distraction.

I

knew

.

t

h

e

.

day

might

.

c

o

m

e

.

dawning,

–

–

when

.

y

o

u

.

would 

again

–

–

start

calling,

–

–

just

.

t

o

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

t

o

.

embrace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

t

o

.

perhaps

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

e

l

.

myself

leaning . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

e

l

.

myself

leaning . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

e

l

.

myself

leaning . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

closer

to

.

t

h

e

.

tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

closer

to

.

t

h

e

.

warming

ease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

closer

to

.

t

h

e

.

haunting

memories . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

things

.

y

o

u

.

meant

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

will

.

S

W

A

L

L

O

W

.

your

intensity,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

!!LEAVE!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

leave

.

y

o

u

.

there

.

t

o

.

weep . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

leave

.

y

o

u

.

there

.

t

o

.

weep . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

leave

.

y

o

u

.

there

.

t

o

.

weep . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

me,

.

t

h

e

way

.

y

o

u

.

did

.

w

i

t

h

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ leave

.

y

o

u

.

there . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

tossing,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

turning,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

spinning,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

sinking . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

drowning

.

i

n

.

the

dream.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2016 where the affected party chooses a path of spitefulness and retaliation when a former romantic partner tries to reconnect.