You,
Me,
And, in between are,
My dreams,
About us.

In the garden's tender shade I lie,
Underneath the azure sky,
Where whispers weave in harmony,
With the rustle of the leaves so free.

Beneath the boughs, I find my seat,
Where words of poets come to greet,
Their verses dance in the gentle breeze,
As I immerse in their symphonies.

A tapestry of blooms unfold,
Their colors bright, their stories told,
Each petal sings its own refrain,
In a language only hearts can gain.

The sun, a painter, strokes the air,
With golden hues, so fine and rare,
Its rays caress each blade of grass,
In a choreography, oh so vast.

And as I lose myself in verse,
In the garden's blessing, I immerse,
For here, between the earth and sky,
I find the beauty that will never die.

In nature's arms, I gently sway,
As time itself just slips away,
And in the silence, I'm not alone,
For poetry and nature, they are my home.

© fey (09/05/24)

always the same
and never the better

you run a fool’s game,
always playing with
the lever.

ready to pull down,
ready to go,

the deepest
pockets of your mind,
an ebb and flow.

misery loves company,
at least one more
this time

always cyclical, and round
and round you go,

emotional chaos
that you hope to
control

but the storm’s ragin’
and you’re comfortable

with a little rain
sometimes

because you know
stories aren’t told
without a little
suffering sometimes.

Is it a crime,
At any time,
To steal your smile,
With my kisses,
To make you mine,
And, forever my missus.

in the hush of silence
in the calm of peace's release
they approach, dancing
their presence a gentle tease
last year, amidst the ebb and flow of time's sway
I erred and guessed in myriad ways astray
last year's tears
steadfast companions through the night
yet within their shimmer
I glimpsed a guiding light
not hatred but fear, you instilled within my core
teaching love's tangled dance
entwined forevermore
addicted to disappointments bitter taste
to the cycle of ascent and fall
not one to waste
you and I
a tale of what could never be
a symphony of longing
a silent plea
heavy the heart
in the weight of sorrow
I find my spirit free

Here we go again.

Another poem focused
on the past, focused on
sins.

Another stanza of a
pain so deep inside,
that there’s no way out
from within.

Days go by and it never left,
Depression, obsession, and
a little possession,

It’s demonic,
and not right.

But suffering
never ends.

Breathe. Inhale. Live. Die.

Smoke and mirrors,
all the time.

Here we go again.

Another poem,
another line,

Written and signed

By the artist who lost
the will to live and survive.

What is poetry?
Talking with a woman like you.

It doesn’t have to be this way,
It’s not as hard as you imagined
it all to be.

There are hills, and obstacles in
the way, but persistence is key—

Prevailing is the best way
to not fall in a state so freely.

It’s all about faking your way,
And ******* it up, until you
grow so numb, because nothing
else matters—

Nothing else matters anymore.

It’s a hard road ahead, and you’re
the greatest enemy that you
could ever meet.

An enemy you could only
defeat.

But you’ve yet to stand up
for yourself, and you end up
getting torn,

A person left in shatters,
oh-so forlorn.

There were times when I would wonder,
About the moments we never shared even before we met,
And, my mind would race and ponder,
To find your memories after together we were set,
For I often still think and wish,
To know more about the kid in you whom I'll always cherish.