let her shine something between the lines.

somewhere between the dead roses and my broken mind, i will find time for you and i.
this world isn't what i thought it would be by now, nothing is the same anymore.
sounds that don't sound familiar, and men with pretty ladies that have long legs.
leather vests make a great outfit on christmas eve, but she wore black velvet instead.
nails that are longer than her future, and lips that would stop this world from turning.
the stranger at the door, isn't a stranger anymore.

journal entry  01/22

the lady that touches your soul is your soulmate
the one who tickles your nose after midnight.

she brings you coffee on rainy Monday mornings.
the one that holds your broken heart together.

another poem

around the dinner table is where we will sit

at my mother’s house is where we will be located.

Laughs and hugs.

smart remarks and mashed potatoes.

Thanksgiving lunch shall be dandy.

poem

fresh air
coffee
curly hair.
sun is out to play
today is Monday
with no work.

finished product.

this is what a friday afternoon @ the office looks like

HAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPYYYYYYYYYYYY FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDDDAYYY!