Letters to Dandelion (9 page)

                        where no one could really care a
pound less?

This is just my guess,

as I will confess,

to the confusion and duress,

of the pain I feel in my chest,

from the weight of Death,

as it hangs above my sorrow-filled

soul.

It’s from the hurt that I feel,

cause I know the deal,

of Why –

When a woman walks by,

How my heart aches as it she steals,

with her cat like ways,

as her body does sway;

I could watch her for days,

as the sun does play, shining

off her unimaginably beautiful face.

Voice of Harpsichord grace,

with hair that shimmery shines above,

pretty eyes, covered in skin tones

of smooth cold gold.

From her speech, I’m just sold,

On Her, to Her and for Her.

If only she would know.

If she could just take the time, to see -

She would find – that, as I am told,

She would simply become my world.

And this is true, I tell you,

this is what she can instantly do …

Her beauty can find the will inside

for a man to cry and feel justified.

For a man to endure, this destructive world,

For a man to rise; to rise above the fold.

For a man to refuse to get a wink of sleep,

For a man to work hard towards his dreams,

For a man inside to find the light, or

a man outside, to trade his life.

A Woman’s beauty chases away all of men’s fears.

Her beauty can make him stronger, smarter and feel

younger in years.

A Woman’s beauty punches a man in his stomach,

makes him shake with waves of nervous snow.

Her image can make a man feel inadequate, until it’s you

he gets to know.

A Woman’s beauty can unravels a man’s plans, shatter

his carefully crafted mold back to that of a five year old.

From the Beauty of You, You precious souls,

It is your Beauty that has shaped this entire world.

When a Woman shares her beauty with a man at night,

and the connection between the two is right,

this is the action that gives him all his might,

to take on the world in a stand up fight.

He’ll be the Soldier, who develops a sixth sense to return
home.

He’ll be the Doctor, who works harder than any other.

He’ll be the Teacher, who envisions you in the classroom,

Or maybe the Poet; writing you this heart-filled sonnet.

But make no mistake about it,

The Beauty of a Woman is a gift, which serves

as more, than as just a covering of skin.

It is the key to where all humanity can win.

Because a man strides, a man conquers, just to find that one

Beautiful Woman, the one who he can lay the
spoils of plunder down at her feet.

In hopes of calling her –

His complete own.

It’s never returned

and she never
cries

No matter what I put out,

it never comes back.

My boomerang is broken

and the return policy

is null and void.

She never cries, because

she’s a tough little girl,

in a beautiful shell,

and full of herself,

but not in a bad way.

It’s never returned

because, I must be cursed.

Of course, that’s the

reason. Because I say

the wrong words,

in the wrong seasons.

Yet, she’s so beautiful,

when she’s laughing,

and talking,

and walking.

She’s brash and painted

and delicate.

She smokes,

and jokes,

and loves her

puppy dog.

I love her.

But, it’s never returned.

I can’t tell her,

because she gets

antsy and afraid.

It’s beautiful when

she cries. Because

that’s a world all

in of itself.

And she never lets

anyone see that.

She let me see,

and I believe,

in her heart.

Her will and her

desire to change,

to grow, to be

a better person

and to live a full

life.

She doesn’t want that

with me, however.

But the world is a two

way street, and I love

everything about her.

So, it’s never returned

to me.

Oh God, send the Angel

of Death quickly.

I’ll even set out milk

and cookies.

As I’m just a long, lost

loser blowing like a

grain of sand in a

storm around her.

She cries, because

she’s been hurt,

and she’s given her

heart,

and she knows

where she is.

She is delicate, under

all that scaffolding.

She’s a work in progress

trying to fall in love with

herself,

So she can love someone

else.

But, she won’t pick me.

So, what I feel is never

returned.

It just burns, going on and
on and on, like the unwatched

comet.

In a sea of blackened

nothing.

Nothing Romantic About the Pain

Who knows what happens,

When things go wrong.

Who can say when the music bleeds,

Dead away, from a song.

And Rhythm no longer seems to move your feet,

Food is tasteless every time you eat.

A person’s smile makes you react as though it were a frown.

Even the sun shining every day, seems to get you down.

You look at yourself and can’t find your own face.

You remember past loves and feel such disgrace.

Were there hard words?

Deception?

Betrayal?

Actions that made you curl,

Like a snail?

And creeps your mentality to a daily, conforming slow –

Only you’ll know – and to attest; to the cloud in your head

the pressure in your breast, of a heart that is continually
breaking.

Your body lies aching ... under covers, hiding from the
world

of reality, bending your mentality and wreaking havoc to
woe.

Reality – is this so?

Is it reality or just the one you now must know?

NO ! You truly don’t.

Believe me – There’s nothing romantic about the pain.

Nothing luminescent about constant rain – drizzling in your
spirit.

Get with it!

You’re so young,

So beautiful,

So free,

Just talk to me.

Walk with me,

Spar with me,

Compare with me,

Argue with me,

Cry with me is you must –

I’ll do all I can to help you crush,

Those old bad memories to dust.

I’d do my best to make permanent, your smile.

And instill a repair of goodness for a while.

I know – Me, you don’t need all,

But while walking in darkness, isn’t light considered a
friend to prevent your fall?

How about a real person, - who an ear they’d gladly lend?

Like a person who’d stick with you till the very, very end.

Don’t let some good words – scare you away.

For you, if you’ll let me, I’d be there to stay.

No, no doormat rules here need to apply,

Lift those pretty eyes up to the sky … and SMILE.

I’m not much,

Not rich,

And definitely not pretty.

But you ask me things so impossible to do,

Such as forget and abandon you –

Can’t do, sorry, not my creed.

Can’t stick to surface subjects or passé feelings.

I’m just too real.

But, don’t fear,

I won’t disrespect or overrun you –

I just want you to know, for you – I’m simply here.

Allow me something
… Say anything … or am I nothing?

When
I have you in my arms,

is
when my life truly begins.

It’s
when joy lifts its head, 

and
my heart loudly sings.

It’s
no secret that I am madly

in
love with you.

And
things are wonderful,
when you’re lying next to me.

But,
when you’re gone, and

I
haven’t seen you in a while,

that’s
when I cry sometimes.

Because,
wondering, is not so

wonderful,
and the reality of

my
arms being so empty, says to me,

that
I’m just lying to myself.

It’s
sometimes too much to bear.

My
mind goes into hyperactive,

and
my thoughts race in a fury

of
concerns.

Where
are you?

Are
you hurt?

Are
you worse?

I’ve
heard every word you tell me,

and
I understand truly where you

are.  
I do.

But,
the one thing that is universally

true
about life is – things always change.

And
nothing stays the same forever.

I
have cast my feelings and my hopes

into
the wind for you.

I
have raised my voice in prayer to

love
you, to hold you, to keep you,
to ask for your safety and to request

your
peace of mind.

I
have written out my emotions based

on
the millions of seconds in a day

that
I think about you and long for

you.

And
I believe in you.

Because
I love you.

Funny,
the title of this seems to ask

for
so many things.

It
sounds demanding, doesn’t it?

But,
that’s the irony of poetry.

It
can be like two extremes,

much
like how you and I are

as
two people.

Dandelion
– I am deeply in love

with
you.

So,
I won’t ask you for anything,

because
I’ve heard what you’ve said,

and
I know I am not - a nothing.

And
as I reach out to you,

wanting
one day to find your
precious little hand waiting for mine.

I
hope and believe, that someday

things
will change.

Someday,
my love with shine through

into
your beautiful eyes, and into your

undefeatable
heart.

Someday,
you can trust me enough,

and
feel total liberty to allow me to

provide
for you and your boys.

Someday,
you may completely

love
me.   Somedays feel far away.

I just don’t know…

So
many things,

and
it’s not a good place.

Stepping
on a set of wings,

It’ll
be so long before I see
again your face.

Feel
my endorphins rise in
hunger for your luscious body,

as
it dances sexily in place.

I
believe you care for me,

but
just on the surface.

While
I rage in my heart,

to
hold you all day.

My
tears will trace a line to

wherever
a land.

My
arms are not long enough

to
reach you, but my words are

felt
to me - to root, then bloom,

then
die.

I
just don’t know, if I will ever

see
you again. Tomorrow is promised

to
no one, and have a safe trip can

spell
anyone’s end.

I
just don’t know if I will touch you

again.
And what a loss to the museum

of
senses that tragedy will be.

I
just don’t know if I will hear your

voice
again, or your laugh, so I may

as
well go deaf.

I
don’t know if I will feel your love

again,
or if I ever felt it, so let’s be

real.

Nothing
in life is ever wasted. And

there’s
no point to even writing a poem.

But,
it seems more that all things are

carefully
planned in this spray of mist

so
fine, interwoven and grand.

As
I said before, we are tiny droplets of

water,
falling to the floor, and meeting,

bumping,
rubbing up against one another

before
we eventually dry out and

disappear.

I
was destined to have met you. We both

agreed
about this in some other form and

some
other reality.

We
intersected on the blueprint of life,

and
what a fucking large print that was.

It
was planned that I would love you,

chemically,
physically, mentally, emotionally,

who
knows, maybe we snuck out, away from