Journey on a motorbike,

Under a carpet so blue,

The journey of love,

A love meant for two.

Swiftly down the hill,

Her hair tickling my face,

Together in this ride,

We felt the sun’s first rays.

Tea in a village,

Breakfast in a small town

And everyone wondered,

Where this angel had come from.

We rode with the horses,

We flew with the birds

And our love grew in silence,

With unspoken words.

The wing mirror glowed,

As she spread her arms in the air

And my heart pounded,

When she hugged me hard like a bear.

We had lunch together,

The best lunch ever

Our evenings were longer,

Filled with memories that would last forever.

When the traffic lights went red,

I saw people stressed

But it was in those junctions,

When our lips pressed.

“Where to go?”

I asked her chasing the cars

She smiled and smiled,

And we went to the stars.

To love someone who loves you back

What are the odds of that

In a world of billions

to find the one

who fills your heart

completes your soul

fits into the jagged edges

of your broken half

to make a whole

What are the odds of that

Would I risk any old venture

on such odds

Probably not

Yet it still happens

Day by day

year by year

Souls join

Lives merge

Time stops and

a love story is born

to rival the ages

It’s not guaranteed

the odds aren’t in your favor

yet it still happens

So to go through life

thinking

love’s not for you

or me and

no one will love me

and

I’ll never find my soulmate

Think again

Love’s not guaranteed

yet somehow

it seems to find a way through

to defy the odds

to break down even the hardest of hearts

to find a way when there is no way

Love

illuminates the windswept storm

melts the frozen wasteland

trickles through the cracks

warms a desolate soul

points the way

shows the hopeless one

that amid the impossible

the possible exists

A simple night, cold and rainy.

Walking home, the leg is pain-ee.

Knees start to buckle, can't crack a smile.

Walking home alone, cramping my style.

I need a car to drive, no more body pain for me.

Filling it up with fuel, take me where I need to be.

Wishful thinking because of pain, walking home drives me insane.

Noises coming from the alley-way.

I can hear people from apartments and what they have to say.

I'll walk a bit faster, but not too fast to run.

I will walk in the light, so I will be seen by someone.

Two blocks from home, not a soul in sight.

Cook and relax is what I plan for the night.

One more block and I am almost there.

Dumpster singers are starting to stare.

Even though I am limping and seems like I am about to fall.

As I step in my door, this will erase it all.

Key turns, chambers slide, door open with a subtle moan.

I have never been so happy to say "I made it home."

The walls could cave in.

The ceiling could come crashing down.

The sun could explode.

I wouldn't notice.

I could forget to breathe

Lose my memory of anything past.

Anything past you.

I wouldn't mind.

I fail to do what I am best at. Words.

My mind's once-brimming files have burned.

They are replaced by new ones; all labelled with your name.

I could write a book.

No, I could write ten million.

I could make a thousand songs.

And title them all after you.

I could compose a symphony.

And a collection of sparkling love poems.

Maybe paint a couple pieces.

Paint your eyes a million times over.

You.

My muse.

My undoing.

My glorious destruction.

You're a fire and I love the flames.

An ocean and I long to drown.

You're the source of my living, breathing.

The lifeforce of my mind.

What am I apart from you.

A body with no soul.

Can such a thing exist?

A mother with no child

A song with no notes

An ocean with no moon

A life without breath

I am, without you.

this is how it always is

the lift of your mouth,

the tilt in your eyes but

not towards me : you're looking away

water laps at my feet and i

kick it but it lashes out, wrapping a

tendril of cold-soaking water around my

ankle and

there are birds here

underwater?

floating by your sound

it's the sound of your laugh ringing ringing ringing

it rings

bell chimes and that's the noon-time warning:

time to what?

shaking myself and trapped by a seaweed

cage of cloudy structures just

hoping to catch a glimpse of

you or even just myself in a

mirror would be nice but its all

so suddenly dark and

when did i get just so

lonely alone

Sitting in the park on a Thursday evening as the sun sets beautifully,

I can only imagine how God felt after creation when he first saw the light rays from the setting sun emollient the outline of the clouds as they moved slowly.

I feel each cloud is a moving image, some of which are a reflection from ongoing moments down here,

And others are simply moments engraved and floating in the skies forever like this one above my head.

This cloud looks like the candy shop I frequently finessed when I was a kid,

That cloud looks like a lion playing a game of chess with a pig.

This cloud looks like a fleet of floating ships with a chopper like propellers and no riders,

That cloud looks like a dancing man on a dinosaur's back.

This cloud looks like three little kitten meowing an acapella version of their favourite song,

That cloud looks like a great big rainbow across a waterfall falling from the heavens down on us.

This cloud looks like how my mom smiled on the day my parents died in that car accident,

That cloud looks like them in their angelic robes and halo waving at me with their faces filled with smile and happiness.

This cloud looks like lovely little children playing in a beautiful garden full of roses,

and, That cloud looks like a lonely blind old man who always visits the park with his dog, and although, He stopped seeing with his eyes for a long time, He now sees with his heart.

I ran my hand through my disheveled hair, threw my button-up shirt over my pajama t-shirt, and put some jeans over my pajama pants. "This is disgusting," I said to myself. "I hate not showering. But it is my fault that I am running late… three days late."

I ran onto stage and looked into the empty auditorium. But wait, it was not actually empty!

"Ladies and gentlemen," I announced to the one man in the back corner of the room, "I would like to thank you for your patience. It is awesome that you stay--"

"I'm the janitor," the man called back to me.

I let out a sigh. "Pen to the Paper 3 is out now. Not that anyone cares at this point. Jeez! I had one job!"

"Can you move your feet?" a voice asked after I had been sitting on the stage for ten minutes.

I jumped out of my skin before realizing it was the janitor. "Oh, sorry," I replied. "Actually, just sweep me up with the rest of the trash."

I Hate this hell.

These window seem like bars,

The skies are hidden,

People walk the halls with

G U N S

Hehe.

They say it helps me!

I KNOW NOTHING MORE THAN STRESS!

HAHAHHAHAHAH!

LOOK WHAT THEY’VE DONE TO ME!

:3

It’s funny,

You search up the words:

“Back to school necklace”

And the first thing that comes up is a noose.

HAHAHAHHAAH!

People are funny!

You should try searching it up.

Lush greenery

Outside the window

Clouds are white

Skies are blue

You don't always appreciate nature

But it's still pretty

And when the soul is tormented

Nothing calms like nature

If it rains

You cry along

If it thunders

You break under the noise

If the sun shines

You smile

If the wind howls

You feel the chill in your bones

Nature is interesting

Sometimes, I feel like I can

Express my own moods using the perfect example

Nature is that example

I'm like the weather

The weather is like my moods

I'm like nature

Nature is partly what I see in myself

The green fields after the rain

Me after crying out my heart

The darkened clouds before the rain

Me before I unburden

The sun coming out on a new day

Me when the day starts; I have potential

The sun setting after a long day

Me when I just fall down onto my bed,

Hoping that tomorrow will be better

It's incredible

Incredibly amazing

I love nature

But, maybe it's because it reminds me of...me

“It’s goin’ be hot today,” Barley said to Frank, his friend of thirty years. “Yup,” Frank said. “I recon so”.

Frank was a man of few words, just like Barley himself. Probably why they got along so well.

The two men sat on the porch together dressed in nearly matching blue overalls, white tshirts, and workboots. They watched the fog slowly lifting from the meadow below.

Barley sharpened his knife on a stone while Frank practiced playing twinkle twinkle little star on his harmonica.

Barely passed

“I wonder if them space aliens is comin’ today?” Frank pondered as he pulled the new butterfly net closer to his chair.

Barley admired the razor-sharp edge, his first accomplishment of the day.

“I recon not Frank. Leastways not ’fore breakfast.

Frank wasn’t so sure.

Jeanna had come in from her daily excursion to the pond west of town with discouraging news. She hadn’t seen a single beaver today. Not even a slap or two of their big flat tails. The water was flat like a mirror. No sign of ’em anywhere.

Frank didn’t want to alarm the girl or her parents (they’re city folks / real nervous types) but, missin’ beavers is kinda serious. Everyone knows that the beavers tend ta skip town at the first sign of a space alien invasion.

But, Barley was right (as usual). There ain’t been a single alien invasion before breakfast. Not in his lifetime anyway. Unlikely they’ll start now.

Barley’s pickup truck was running now. His signal that it was time to go . If there’s anyone who appreciates a good breakfast more than the space aliens, it’s Barley.

“No, no, no Frank! Din’ I tell ya to leave that stinky ol’ dog a’ home?”

Everyday the same argument. Everyday the same result: Frank’s old dog Bo Bo cuddled up nice and close to Barley as the three of them drove down to Miller’s farm for a hearty breakfast.

“Bo Bo has a little gas this mornin’ Barley. Best keep yo’ distance.”

It was an unnecessary warning. Barley was already sittting as close to the door as he could. He sat with his body half turned sideways; his back crammed in the corner of the seat and the door.

Bo Bo and Barley lookEd. as if they were going to drive the pickup truck together.

“Gas, huh?

“Well I recon’ he can’t smell much worse than he always does”. Barley said.

With that, Bo Bo proved Barley wrong.

“What the hell ya’ feedin’ that thing? Frank. Frank! don’t tell me ya’ gave ’im canned chili again.”

“Okay”

“Ya can’t feed a forty year old dog canned chili.”

“Barley?”

″ Yeah?”

“The beavers is gone.”

“Bad sign Frank?”

“Real bad”.

Barley clapped his old friend on the shoulder And said: “Ain’t nothin we cant handle Frank. Let’s get us some breakfast, then we’ll find them beavers.”

Questions about this chapter

First Impressions

what is your first impression of bar