The Fates


As was expected,

The fates had been laid,

Written on stone,

But inked in chalk,

As the tears washed them away,

We suddenly realized,

The fates could be changed.

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Irradiate Me


Your smile,

How it irradiates me,

Like sunshine cutting through the gray,

All sunken memories,

Days filled of rain,

Plunge to depths,

Even Jules Verne wouldn’t roam,

Provides me hope,

Broken hearts can mend,

People can change,

With a flip of the coin,

No matter the odds,

Heads or tails,

We always win.

With Child


Destructive mind,

Attempts to leave it all behind,

What’s it going to take this time?


Seeking placebo effect,

Endless moot trek,

No drug to satisfy this appetite.


Days slip into night,

Seek to find what was never right,

Rainbows don’t end in pots of gold.


Living rich but feeling poor,

Heart closed just like every door,

Mirrors reflect untold lies.


Now with child in hand,

Will the cycle begin once again?

Only time will tell….


Played that game in my life,

A child’s love marred in strife,

Tears fill my eyes.



On Love

Love Thought

Some people are in love. Others are in love with the idea of being in love.

We are all searching for love, but perhaps we don’t understand why. And that’s what scares us. We want to feel something but we aren’t sure what the expectation is of what we should feel.

And the worst is to have it taken away from us. To know that individual doesn’t feel the same way anymore. Perhaps they did never did. Perhaps they were not in love with us but the idea of being in love in the hopes to heal themselves.

Maybe love doesn’t exist. Maybe it is like Heaven. Some idea to give us hope. Some thought that makes our lives worth living and worth fighting for.

Maybe love does exist – just in different levels, degrees, and versions. After all, the language of love appears to be one of the most, if not the most, important aspect of a relationship. But, if we can’t love ourselves, how can we have any love to share with others?

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I know you are doing what you need to do. I know it is ultimately right. I understand your situation. You painted a canvass for me of friendship. It hurts to know the words were made of water colors. It hurts that you pretend nothing ever happened. I’m sorry my colors were opposite of yours. I painted in the direction I thought was right and stand by what I created. I was a true friend to you and now – we are nothing. Friendships are a palette of colors. I painted true yet I feel betrayed. Maybe cause I find in you how my past still remains. I’m sorry that things are now black and white.

I’m sorry that a cold splash of reality caused all the colors of my canvass to dissipate. I wonder what you are thinking. I wonder how you can wear a facade and watch as the colors run dry. The picture was painted with bright hues that now fade as they melt away.

I don’t know what is worse…our canvasses are now dry or we pretend they never existed.