1) Holding tight my hand,
In another place,
Different time and space.

If I close my eyes,
And dream of might have been,
I feel the hand in mine,
Not just another line.

The pressure of another,
A pulse beside my own,
It pulls me in,
It draws me deep,
Calling me home.

Just have to wait until,
Time and space collide,
Waiting for the phantom,
To wake me up inside.

.. it would appear that I’ve begun writing poetry again. I didn’t expect that to happen… hem. what do you know.

2)Never meant to be, For me
This foolish thing is just an end
which no true form of desire mend
Another lost amidst the game
though winner finds not fortune nor fame
See it now as footsteps fade
Of long forgotten lovers made