Dear C,

You Were Right

I've thought

     Myself

  Into holes

          Turning into

        Abyssal darkness.

Learning as I

     Climb

       Back

         Out

    Wondering how

      I found

          Myself

  In the dark again.

Living in an immutable state

          Of regret

               I

    Vow never to return:

                      I

                   Find myself

       In the dark again.

So you were

             Right

   You always

         Had been.

   I was thick

     I was rash

       I was blind.

You loved me

             When

     I could not love myself.

You grounded me

       Turned on the light

    Or lit my torch.

I pray

        You are happy

                      Contented.

        Because I am.

You deserve

      That and

   So              so

        Much more.
I hope this 

      Finds you well

  Finds you

            Warmly.

        In sunlight with

    Flowers in your hair, and

           No cloud in your eyes.

I yearn that no gust blows

       Those flowers in your hair away.

I implore my words won't cast that cloud.

-- R

Blank Pages

New pages woo me
Blank. Open. Free.
New pages with old
Music folding on folds
Of my ears living
Vicariously being
Someone I can only
Wish to be.

Vapourized daydreams
Living as it would seem
On the cusp of reality
Oh how this page woos me.

New notevooks nearing
Insanity lusting leaving
My pen contorted
Ink splayed on pages thwarted
Poems splayed eagle
Heart growing feeble
Hand in frantic hand
Insanity
Oh, how these pages woo me.

Struck

Something struck me today
The power
Power and love and
          Saddness and guilt
          And elation
Of poetry.

It lives in me more now
I bask in its glow whether
       Or not that glow is
       Bright.
Because what these
        Words
Do for, to, with me
      Is immesurable.

I adore words (not
      Mine of course) but
      These letters forming
      Stanzas forming poems
        Lets my heart free;
I sail on the wind made of ink.