Tulip

One petal slowly dries and detaches
Takes it's time relocating
To the ground
Lies there,
Turned to and fro by the gentle hand
Of the breeze
Disconnected from it's self
It's Mother

Mother is sick and curled up
Inside herself
Preserving the warmth
Known as moisture

Without a home
The petal lost
Torn from root and Mother

In the presence of
Mastery
I stumble
Am humbled
Fall to me knees in
Jealousy

If I Write Your Name It Will Be Too Obvious

It's funny how I love you
Maybe not in a conventional way

I almost laugh to say I miss you
Maybe to think you are someone
More
Than
Special

Maybe to think you are not Someone
But, The One.

Oh, shit, I've overstepped my boundaries
Gone all cheesey again
And, blimey, fuck, shit

It may all be true.

Gardens in/around/of Life

I've been writing poetry
About tulips

And,
Crying

Both things can be equally rewarding and dissapointing

I think I may love you in a way I never suspected

I mean, really, really, love you

Tulips, again.

Paris

I sit
Behind (deriere)
My life

Glass of Sparkling Water

Cigarette

Income Tax

Worry (Also called Money in the life before the Afterlife)

Lonely or Alone or Lost or Looking