... my other garden ;)

About Me

My photo
I'm not a graceful person. I'm not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2AM, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don't belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don't see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

November Memories: Bonifacio

Lost in confusion and total self bliss
I've found the relation between dream and wish
A dream is a fantasy lived only while asleep
But a wish has a compass vast, far and deep.
A dream can bring true the wish never thought
As your mind wanders aimlessly and feelings are sought.
But a wish is a simple, momentous undertaking
A grasping of things while still in the making.
Now my understanding of wish and of dreams
Have broadened my scope - or so it would seem
But still I'm confused and nothing is clear
Because you are a wish, yet a dream so dear.
With the breath of each day, I wish for your sight
Visions of loveliness turned to dreams in the night
You've become such a fantasy with realistic tones
I long for your love and time spent alone
Sadly enough my dreams cause confusion
For all their purpose are meager illusion
And though the dawn of each day may be cheerful to sight
I fear the darkness and my continuing fight.
For now its a war - a battle within
A dreadful nightmare which rationality must win
What should I do? Where shall I begin?
Should I ask for your love or remain a dear friend?
In my dreams youre my lover and my world is complete
But in life your a martyr to hope so elite
I've grown to know you and care with a passion
But fear lies within mutual attraction.
If I am to approach you with some indication
Would I strengthen our friendship or cause detonation?
This is the confusion, the struggle, the fight,
Until I am sure, youll remain  a dream in the night.
... posted in Friendster wearin' Skype.

This month he's 39.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Followers

Blog Archive