Just In Case.
There were dandelion wishes carried gently in the wind. I think I even saw crimson birds dance with the butterflies as the sun was split into a million rainbows reflected in their tiny wings. I kept thinking that there must be someone out there who still believes in making wishes. Someone who believed that there were things worth wishing for. Beautiful things such as those that cannot be seen or touched but instead felt within the heart. I closed my eyes as I let the smell of grass and sun kissed flowers envelope me like a friend.

Kitchen Poetry # 28.
Don't be so harsh on them. We are all secondhand treasures. Each of us bruised and battered in some way or form. We've just gotten really clever about hiding our dings and chips. In the end, we're just looking for somewhere soft to land. And you know what...living in reserve can be so exhausting. So go on and smile. Who knows, you may just brighten up someone's day.

Kitchen Poetry # 27.
After ten million years of solitude don't you want to lay your head down somewhere soft? Living in reserve can be so exhausting, I know. But if reality only exists in the human mind, come take some comfort in mine.

Indelible.
Like breath on a windowpane the people you meet leave a transparent mist on your soul. It's like that orchestra that doesn't want to be silenced. Because in the infinite spaces of your mind no one really leaves. They just lie and wait for the right time.
They're like light; it doesn't bend and it doesn't break.

Night Prowler.
You're up now and covered with a sheen of sweat which makes you shiver as the night air stirs the stillness of the room. The sky is a strange hue of dark and it's too late for this type of madness. It's more like a craving. Yes, admit it...you desire it. You crave for it. The type of craving that comes in the wee small hours and invades your dreams like the dying embers of a long lost friendship.  When you know that making that call is something you must not do. Even though every fibre of your being is aching to dial the number that tickles your fingertips. When you know nothing else will do. Maybe a glass of cold water will help? And as you round the corner of the bedroom you think you see what you need just sitting there. As if it were destiny. "Could it be?", you squeeze your eyes shut as the hot mess of tangible madness washes over you. The want in you rises like a crashing tide and you give in, not caring what will happen tomorrow. For tonight you want nothing else but this moment. You pick up the phone and bite your lip until it hurts as you wait for the only voice that can still the turbulence in your soul. There's a click, and a hello, you swallow your pride, "can I get a large Hawaiian pizza with....extra cheese...please?"

You are so young; you stand for beginnings. I would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will, gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day. Perhaps you are indeed carrying within yourself the potential to visualise, to design, and to create for yourself an utterly satisfying, joyful, and pure lifestyle. Discipline yourself to attain it, but accept that which comes to you with deep trust, and as long as it comes from your own will, from your own inner need.
- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet.

Listen, dumbass. I’m gonna let you in on a secret that most guys don’t even have a clue about. You ready? Women love words. You need to tell her how you feel. Just say it. Say it, again. Say it differently. Learn how to say it better, learn how to sing it.
- Melissa McCall.