I rise in the morning,
while you, lie in slumber.
Leaving the warmth of
your body.
Sometimes, I envy you,
being able to stay in bed.

I realize, that I
take you for granted,
by not telling you,
how much I need you
or how much I care.

I like the way you
wear your hair
and your smile,
but I don't tell you.
I will,
someday.

If I enjoy living,
please tell me why,
I fight depression.
When I am happy,
no other person is happier
but when I am sad,
how depressing.

I must be a paradox,
to my friends,
those that I have.

Moods make the
personality, but we
are not supposed to be
moody.
Perhaps, we are not
supposed to have moods
but be even tempered or
mechanical.

Tell me that you love me,
say the words to me.
Tell me that you love me,
and I will always be,
your love forever.

Take my hand and lead me
to the place that angels dwell,
among the pines and fern groves,
where wild flowers tell,
of their existence and their presence.

Walk with me, beside the water,
hear the sound of a bubbling brook,
let the scents and sounds surround you
and be sure to take a look.
Can you see the color? Can you hear
the sound?
Can you see the love that shines,
when you are around?

Do you know my name, or does it
really matter?
Will I remember or forget,
engaged in idle chatter
or will you leave me alone?

Loving many, may give you pleasure
and keep your evenings full
but knowing, that love is absent,
makes your love untrue.

They say that talk is cheap
and only action speaks for me,
but I will tell you,
that though,my words may be hollow,
I still think of you
and the words you spoke to me.

I feel this great compulsion
to create or to write,
as if some, unseen force,
drives me towards a goal
that exists only in my mind.

This comprehension of an
invisible being, inside me,
clawing to get out,
forcing me to write,
when, by rights,
I should be working.

The body is willing
but my mind has no direction,
unable to concentrate,
on one, pure thought.

Loving you, is easier than,
anything.
Loving you, is the best
thing that I do,
for loving you gives me
more happiness,
than all the creature
comforts of the world.
Holding you, while
standing , in a crowed room,
lying with my head
above your shoulder
or gently placing my
hand upon your breast,
is true happiness.

It's not easy, being lonely,
especially, when surrounded
by friends.
But when your good,
nothing is difficult.
I can find myself in
pits of sorrow,
covered with my own
self pity,
feeling sad,
for no reason.

Goodbye cynics,
one and all.
Goodbye, farewell,
to you.
Keep your comments,
to yourself,
for I don't care
to know,
what you think or
if you do at all.