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Loneliness

Loneliness is a portrait without eyes
the empty face void of expression
a gasped sigh for light never to be seen
through lips unable to cry for something lost
that they possibly never had.

leaves

The leaves fall on chilled air
They flutter a bit
And collect in the gutters
and cling to the pavement around the tires of parked cars.
Wind and rubber soles
batter what's left of orange skeletons.

Sometimes I feel like a lawn care man
with a leaf blower
A job only done to feed my family
with no thought of the trees that used these to give us shade
or the god who gave us the trees
just living, existing, to gather up the remains.

Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. -Emerson

There is never enough of me
THough it is you who does not know the length of an hour
or four
or forty
as I sit with heavy heart and hurting hands
you will never see my effort
But oh, you will notice when I fail.

I cry out for you
though it is I who works
rocking myself to sleep.
It is my mind burning
Seared with my thoughts
Welded into my hymn
tearing each note from the page.

Are you entitled to judge?
Or better, is there no way for you to help me
believe a lie when I know the truth?
That I will never be enough
That I am forever imperfect
My music broken.

I have traded peace for your lips
Confidence for your eyes
and my song, for your black heart.

You

Butterflies crept from the pages of the book we held,
and golden threads rained, quivering, down across our faces
like confetti from the tips of their feet.
Your hand brushed the strands from my cheek
and you pulled me close and whispered the words
from the page as if it were a secret
for my ears alone.
We hung in the clouds over the setting sun,
the pink dancing in your hair
and the orange on the tip of your nose.
And you held me
and I knew how much I loved you.

Goodbye Song

Well, you are gone
When I wished for it so long ago
I never thought it would happen.
I never meant for it.
Though I may have always acted
Otherwise
I really did love you.
Now, it’s empty here.
Not a sad empty
Just odd and open.
Like a wall stripped of photographs
Or a shelf missing the books
That we’d seen for all our lives.
Pictures that I wasn’t in.
Books I’d never read.
And now, just gone.
We laid you in the ground today.
I played “Lead, kindly light” for you,
But I didn’t do you or the music justice
Skipping half a line by accident.
But your old friends seemed to like it
As they reminisced about how they
Miss you too.