Trust In Me
Your trust in me is not given lightly,
it is a sacred bond, built over time,
and I am humbled by the way you offer it.
In your submission, you give me a piece of your soul,
allowing me to hold it with care and responsibility.
Poetry
Five Hours
I drove five hours through the spine of Ontario,
two lanes humming like an old Hip song,
the sky pressing low, waiting to exhale,
Bobcaygeon awaits like some half-remembered dream,
a town know for a melody, lit by a myth.
I stood by the water where Gord must have stood,
where the past drapes itself over rooftops and docks,
and I waited for the stars to reveal themselves,
not hypothetical, not dull, not lost to the city’s haze,
but sharp as a whispered truth, rising one by one.
Trusting You
I am trusting you with more than my body.
I am trusting you with more than my breath.
I am trusting you with my submission, my will, my place.
I am trusting you with the space between who you are
and the dominant you are still becoming.
Distant Dreams
Distant dreams of love stretches across the miles like an unseen suspension bridge,
A fragile connection binding souls separated by distances wide,
This longing lingers heavy, like a mist, shrouding every thought,
Life is suspended, caught between highways and heartbeats,
Voices echo softly in the phone wires, reminders of what once was,
Each whisper carries the weight of dreams waiting to be realized.
Fully, Completely
Fully, Completely
You say my name like a half-remembered tune,
a song you hummed while locked in a trunk of a rusted-out car,
windows down, cigar smoke curling like ghosts,
before distance rewrote the chorus,
before we forgot what the verses meant.
Scratches On The Roof
A pine tree scratches on the roof, echoes in the night,
Snow blankets the cabin, but my mind is full of fright,
Every whisper of the wind sends panic through my veins,
Is it them waiting in the dark, or just my restless brain?
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Poetry
A Lighthouse On The Shore
A dominant stands like a lighthouse on the shore,
strong and unwavering against the shifting tides,
its beacon cuts through the darkest storms,
offering a steady guide for the one who sails,
never forcing, but shining the way forward.
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Poetry
Cut The Ties
They do not lie to shield your heart,
The truth would tear their plans apart.
The lies are told to keep control,
To shape your choices, guard their goal.
Beyond the Secretary
In the quiet of the office, a glance, a harsh command,
Two souls entwined in silence, where power takes a stand.
The scent of red ink, the rustle of the pen,
Where the line between desire and restraint is drawn again.
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Poetry