There's a world where tears fall twice as much,
and the smiles are half as real,
and the gentlemen are civil and such,
as they try to find something to feel.


They comb the crowds with dark brown eyes,
in search of something true,
and all to often, there's nothing but lies,
and no one to be honest to.


I head out, alone, with my open heart,
as other men make their way,
and find their truth, and find their peace,
and in the crowds I stay.


I search the faces with growing fear,
for I find no eyes like mine own,
but I could no more end the hunt,
than I could love alone.


To live a life of lovelessness;
no, that's just not how life goes;
I know there's someone out there for me,
and I know that she knows.



Each moment shared with her means more,

than what may come, and what precedes.

I've found what I've been searching for;

my flower in the weeds.















There's a time when time flies all too fast,

and the rhymes and feelings flow free,

and sonnets sent are well received,

and you and I are we.



Believed is not a higher thing,

bettering our reach;

beginning with ourselves, we meet,

and meld, and learn, and teach.



I hold my hand out, steeled to wait,

as longing steals my pride;

you hold out, hesitate, but hate

to want, and more to hide.



Deciding, cried in tenseless tears;

fears forgotten now;

finally, your freedom,

and your flower, in your vow.



Finished wishing, found, and sound;

solely by the searching through.



Whole by having had been told

that there's a bloom for you.

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