Awakened Passion

Love can be as restoring as it is destructive.
How do you know you're ready to leave memories past?
The flame can be as deceptively gentle as it is aggressive.
How do you know you're ready to set out the reddened mast?

You aimed your heart at empty things,
burned were your hopes, torn were your fantasies.
Mistakenly leaving your pride in their hands,
In pieces it was returned like plucked delicate daisies.

Tossed aside plans and half-hearted words tower to block your sight,
The What Could Have Been lurk to infect.
When are you able to walk onward
conquering ill-fated thoughts so difficult to detect?

You've bore the burden of unfulfilled love.
Alone, you were left in the depths of guilt..
When is the right time to trust?
So you can let rise a paradise, the one that was always to be built.

A soul warming shiver will guide you as she passes by,
a thoughtful sleepless night will pry open your mind.
At a glance, the minute hand will start to double back,
take your time, feel her cure, for she was always yours to find.

168th and 77th

Some people call this place home,
Others, just another street.
The name itself is certainly nothing special,
but it is always the first to greet.

It is lined with colored camouflaged trees,
those that seem to be reaching to touch a treasured face.
What a complexion it must have been,
to have accepted to be eternally frozen in place.

Lively voices of little ones sound from the topmost window,
towards their father who just came home.
There it is, a moment savored,
as he will soon be holding his very own flesh and bone.

Turning the corner, I silently bid farewell to 168th and 77th.
I won't walk another path as unselfish as you.
To the open-minded you ceaselessly provide
and even in unkempt shambles, stay true.

Dirty

My hands are coarse.
They have forbiddingly felt and wish to forget.
My eyes are heavy.
Each long for the nightshade to cover their signs of regret.

My room is dirty.
It is consumed with empty bottles and crossed out paper.
My face is burdened.
It holds the tainted complexion of a troubled sleeper.

My motives are guilty.
Too many intentions marred by ideas unwanted.
My actions are weak.
They only lead to easy paths frequently trotted.

It asks, what does it take to change?
My forcibly softened inner voice pleads.
How much dirt can you permit to derange?
It whispers; Enough. Raise the volume and trust where I lead.

Fall of Regret

All wild animals can be tamed.
Cage a lion and one day it will start to beg.
How loud he starts out doesn't matter.

Regret changes a man,
a powerhouse of emotions.
But do regretful actions knowingly,
how strong it is doesn't matter.

Packed emotions propels a man.
Diluted regret weakens him.
Numbers start to matter.

Do the deed, two, three, four times.
Your innocence diminishes with each completion.
Cage the beast, cage regret
And start counting the days till you turn black.

Sometimes

Sometimes people do wrong things,
even though they know they'll miss out on the good in life.
Sometimes people do wrong things with a tear in their eyes.

Sometimes people want a clean slate,
to never have experienced what they have.
Sometimes after the deed is done, they'll go mad.

Sometimes people turn toward more darkness,
even though their heart yearns for another direction.
Sometimes no matter where they hide, evil thoughts sneak into their imagination.

Sometimes all I want to do is go back
and tear out parts of my life.
But pure, we will never be, but constantly tested against strife.