For Lovers Only

For Lovers Only

Wednesday, 3 February 2016

In the Night...

The sunset breaks apart the world cutting it into shadows,
and packing it away for another day.

He paused as if considering all the possibilities of the world in a single moment.
We stayed up until dawn.

Sunday, 24 January 2016

Once Upon a Whisper...

It’s black and white on the surface,
but underneath there’s a sea.
The longer you hold on the harder it is to breathe.

There’s this place I’ve been making,
that’s on the other side.
It’s not made of black and white,
but all the stars that have collide.

Imagine if you waited, slowed down
just a sec
and with your eyes you looked, at the sea again.
Watching all of life up close, could you turn away?

I’ll tell you a secret in a whisper,
nothing you said could make me stay.

No two people on the planet share the same eyes.
And as you look into mine and I look into yours,
something inside me starts to cry.

There was a girl who once existed,
who could feel all of time in a single instant.
One day she fell in love
and at the same time, she wondered why?
For that moment she was happy and sad.
Happy because she knew, for him it was just the beginning,
Sad because for her, it was already over.

Monday, 18 January 2016

Life Steps Almost Straight...

When I read some of my favourite poems
it affirms how mediocre my writing is, 
but always motivates me to keep trying to be better.

We grow accustomed to the Dark -
When light is put away -
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye -

A Moment - We uncertain step
For newness of the night -
Then - fit our Vision to the Dark -
And meet the Road - erect -

And so of larger - Darknesses -
Those Evenings of the Brain -
When not a Moon disclose a sign -
Or Star - come out - within -

The Bravest - grope a little -
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead -
But as they learn to see -

Either the Darkness alters -
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight -
And Life steps almost straight.

-Emily Dickinson


You think you know who you are.
But you're wrong.
You only know yourself as a part of the life you're living now.
Never of what you could be,
somewhere else,
someone else.

Dreams scattered on the sidewalk, paving the way to those tall buildings,
the one's that weren't ever there before.
In a different world, at a different time.
Your life's not the same, and it shouldn't be.

There's so much more, made up of what you can't touch.
Maybe things don't have to keep getting darker.
Somewhere there's some light. 

Monday, 11 January 2016

Falling Backwards...

Underneath, I can see the day.
How we all hold on, to stop what's already left, floating away.
Who are we?
and where do we all belong?
How can we walk straight past the bird that sings us a song?
without even a glimpse.
The moment's passed.
Like a wandering heart, a lost love,
a broken song, if only it last.

Life's so busy, we forget the day.
Forget what it's like to whisper inside a second,
goodbye to a lover walking away.
Or maybe even, to take one step at a time.
To look in the eyes, and feel with the heart,
such raw emotion, we could die.
So much for us to bare,
a closeness we cannot share,
with a passing stranger, even a loved one,
a brother, a prayer.

Destination unknown.
All this thought is not wise,
because once you know, you know.
You're awake then, never to close your eyes. 

Saturday, 2 January 2016

I'm with you.

Though thinking, sometimes you don't know when the light will return.
It might just keep getting darker.

There's this illusion and maybe it's hard not to fall,
but I know my steps are heavy because my heart is full.
And all this waiting for the day to change makes it difficult to breathe.

I'm on this plane again in a month,
to that side of the world I can't stop going back to.
So many places feel like home.
All the moving, and the seeing, and the living has made me so restless.
Enough to know a conventional life is not my path.

What's a car,
a house,
a stash.
All I need is my paper, books, a river and a dream.

Though I can't fault the way,
my parents raised me.
All those countries, still making sure we went to church every week.
And I still do,
hold her hand
to make sure she feels like all this makes a difference.
And it does in small ways.
How quite we are,
a time to think,
to rest.

For me.
To know.
I've made mistakes in the past,
that I'm not perfect, but try every day to be better.

To see us trapped,
it breaks my heart.
All actors on a stage dancing to a broken song.
So everyday I fight it,
be spontaneous,
no plan B because I don't even have a plan A.

Everyday is an open window,
and I'm a bird.
Just a bird.