When the only thing you can see is your breath from the cold,
My trembling hand I ask you will hold.
As your skin grazes, our love starts a spark,
I'll always miss you the day after dark.

Venezia

Past midnight in a cheap hotel room.
Some night owl plays the mandolin;
endless stops and starts of elevator,
two drunks return late from the bar.

Where is my restful sans souci,
the grotto that gleams in sapphire’s
royal blue as I attempt to submerge
myself in Capri dreams?

I close my eyes, imagine stars above
Heaven’s girth and listen to Puccini’s aria
“Nessum Dorma,” ‘Tonight no one must sleep,”
to drown out the elevators’ humming.

Panicking,
struggling,
choking,
drowning.

Yielding to fear,
engulfed by water,
lungs screaming for air.
Where is my savior?

One cruel prank,
haunting me for a lifetime.
Thirty years have passed,
still I'm restless in the night.

You will never see him cry
You will just assume he tries
He was called smart because of his head.
the boy you thought was alive is dead.

He cloaks himself in broken sleeves,
So everyone that loves him leaves.
They say to never give a poet a pen,
so he stopped writing 'that' note in tense of ten.

He's full of retching pain at heart,
So he turns it into a piece of art.
He sits alone in suffering silence,
but sometimes quiet can turn into violence.