Poem: Why did you go?

This is not the end.

There is so much more to tell, but time is not our friend.

We met on a cold winter night, now we are back here once again many years later.

This is the story of our lives, one that needs to be told.

You and me together until the end of time.

At least that is what I thought, that was the plan well my plan.

Sometimes I guess plans change, and our changed without my approval.

It was supposed to be a quick trip something to clear your mind.

You went to the place that held the other side of your heart, the one that was not mine.

The promise you made that you would come back, was the first one that you broke.

I have no tears left to cry, and no words that I can say to make this right.

You had my heart, and for that I am grateful.

My love you left me, and this time I had to read it on paper.

What happen, why did you have to go?

Did I not love you right, or were the ringing in the clouds to loud for you not to hear?

I do not have the answer I just wish you were here, but that cannot be.

Sometimes two hearts are not better than one.

Poem: Stone

Stop the tears, they no longer hurt.

You cannot do that to me anymore.

This heart of mind that was so pure and full of joy, is not stone.

The kind that cannot break, and it all because of you.

I gave you my all, but it never was good enough.

You were tired and so was I.

I kept fighting hoping for better days, but you left me out in the rain with no hope for tomorrow.

I never knew hurt like this.

I no longer care about your feelings; your tears can no longer break me.

You made me cold, and now I am stone.

The heat we had is now just smoke from the flames.

You turn my love into something that I no longer want to feel.

Do you feel bad?

No, and that is why I am gone.

This is no longer yours to burn.

You made me stone.

Poem: The Sun Will Come Out

The sun will come out tomorrow they say, so I will sit here and wait.

There is nothing else for me to do.

I have given it my all, yet it was no good.

So, I will sit here in this dark and cold room that has brought me warmth.

Where the air has a hint of musk that my soul cannot break.

This is my life now, one that I have always wanted, but no longer deserve.

I sit and think to my self the sun will come out tomorrow as the song says.

That is all I got; the love that used to be next to me is gone.

I know we will meet again, but how long will we be apart.

The darkness is making me unkind to life, and the hope it would bring.

You were the light that I never knew I had.

When yours started to fade so did mine, I never had the strength to change the bulb.

I just let it drain until it was no more.

I never knew how much I needed the light until it ran out.

They say the sun will come out tomorrow, but the last time I check it was still dark out.

Poem: Am I?

Have you ever thought about today?

About the things that it could bring.

Have you always wondered what is this thing burning in your soul?

 Is this the thing you have always hoped for?

The one desire that you dreamed about on those long cold nights.

It is the words that you never thought that you could say.

The words that you see fall of the tongues of strangers but makes you cold.

Have you just wanted this to be true, for so long it was not?

This is the dream for dreamers.

The though has cross your mind that this could be a nightmare.

That what you want is something that just simply cannot be.

This time this you feel different.

So, you must ask yourself the question that you have wanted for so long.

I am, could this be, and the answer is yes.

I am in love.

Do it

The last two weeks I came up with an idea that I would like to pursue. I am not sure that it will work out, but this is something to keep me being more creative. These last few months have been crazy for me with writing, and life in general. There is so much going on with my mind, that I am not sure if I it all makes sense to me.

The one constant thing I must say that has stayed the same is that I would like to be a writer. I want to be able to tell stories, not just any stories I want to tell my stories. My mind is always running, and it is never stopping. I do not want it to stop if I am honest. I just do not know how much more I need to do.

Last year I set a goal for me to write a screenplay, and you know what I did it. Was it easy, no? I set the goal and I accomplished. The truth is I have not looked at that since at least march. I know I need to go back and edit it, but I just cannot go back to it. If I am honest the reason I have not gone back to is because I do not trust me, and I never think anything that I do is good. I know it is good, but I tend to change almost everything when I go back over it.

I am just my own worst critic. If everyone around me tells me what I am writing is good. I just think they are making it up. It is something that I am working on, but it will take time. Maybe my new idea will be the push I need to keep going. Who knows, but you must just do it, do not worry about if this good or not just do it.