Finding that you’re lost and getting lost so you can be found. 


You take your pick and I end up with the former. 
Too much emotion, you said. All too much for you to take in. Was it better, bottled up? Should we have held it in? Wine is better once aged anyway. 

Will I gray before we end the oscillate? How much to act upon, and how much to leave to fate?  There is no anger here, my love. No spite.

In time you will find your way back to me. When you do we’ll map it all out and you’ll smile the way you did when you said, “This is meant to be”.



Our Starry Night

A star studded black silken silence threaded overhead.

Part of the woven night, the stars- they tend to their scars, blissfully unaware.

And you don’t believe that scars can give light and that aftermath can define beauty.

If only you could see, if only you could see.



Ink blobs in brown and green,

Strings of light in sweet saccharine.

Cannonballs- some in bloom,

A cherry stained embrace, making room.

Drained by the sun and it’s bitter-sweet ways, 

This is what I found whilst looking for shade.



Smiling, she wiped away traces of stardust from beneath her feet. Without a whisper to the awake, she told her sleep to watch over her dream, until it returned for her tonight.


Seven Violins

Words tucked behind chapped lips, 

teary eyes  barely curtaining truth.

The touch of a hand, a lifting glance.

It’s known, it’s old, it’s new.

I listen to your eyes intently, your eyes.

In those eyes, seven violins play

And without an end, we begin again.



​Thoughts racing beyond the finish line,

Actions lagging swiftly behind.

What we do and what we say, somehow tend to go astray.

Beyond dimension, reason and rule-it stays,

Untamed as it should be, it ceases to fade.

Chasing the shadows behind us-we fail,

To see all the light that illuminates.

It will keep us coming back somehow,

Only love can save us now.


Your Embrace

The hurt you masked with words,

The words you overwrote with others.

The sparks you tried to blow out,

The fountain you pretended to choke at its sprout.

The stolen glances in which you memorized us.

The commas we’ve had in punctuation,

Like little breaks from oxygen.

It has never been about the run, nor about the chase.

I grasped it all from your eyes-nestled in your embrace.