your love is a dream

I keep walking
and going about my business,
but I’m somehow lighter
like there’s clouds in my pockets.

I don’t know why,
you don’t even exist,
and clouds must be angel farts,
and you’re an angel.

your face is like candy
and i bet you smell
a little bit like people
and a little bit like flowers.

Is it wrong
for me to think that you’re beautiful,
just because you shared your smile with me?

resting on me my love

when it’s late at night my love
and you’ve fallen asleep
with your head on my chest

i just look at you
and stroke your hair
and think about how beautiful you are
and how glad i am
that i can admire you
like a beautiful sculpture
of a beautiful sleeping woman

wicked love

she’s twisted
i can’t figure her out

she’s different
it doesn’t make sense

as if she’s a kitten
and my soul is her toy
with her tiny little claws and teeth
so vicious

so silly and fun

and worth it

our love remains

i’m an old man now
and there are so many shadows in the past

your eyes seem to change
at times
like a mask

but the truth is always there
whispering
“do you hear me?”

still i can’t see the past
only the connection of our souls
and the path forward

footprints

i’ve forgotten so many of our memories
they seem to wash out to sea
lost in the sand of living each day

but there are a few things that remain
like footprints in the sand