Gravitas

Sometimes looking back

you get livid with yourself

for being angry/pathetic/vulnerable when you shouldn’t have been

the permanence of the past rapping at the chamber door to your soul

find solace in the fact that while the past is permanent

the past has passed

San Francisco

Cool clean air and remnants of the past line the avenues.

Cafés on every other corner, magic spent with a love that’s true.

Loves, lives long lost – extinct.

Enveloped in the winding hills,

Entranced by hazy blue skies,

Could use another week (a month, a year) away,

Lost in the city by the bay.

Perspective

Whether fault belongs to you
Or in truth, may lie with me
It’s all about perspective
All that matter’s what you see

The City Wakes

Street corner painted in color,
Apollo’s light kisses the clouds.
Each step full of history,
Beginnings, ends, drunk lovers,
Keep hold.

Every morning all is born anew,
The streets are alive for you.

Roses

Roses are red, like the inside of your eyelids.
Fragments of dreams and memories swimming behind them.
Seeds planted with high hopes, Start to wither in winter.
Then are re-imagined in the spring.
Red, like the first drop of passion spilt. Like struggle, madness, – all but sadness.
Sadness only arrives in hues of the deepest blue, gives birth to perils in your head.
What a simple gift, that roses are red.