Several of my new poems

I never share my "real" poetry if you will but I've decided why let it go to waste.

Fragments

Shattered glass scattered along my mind,
Each piece a reflection that makes you,
Original, one of a kind, beautiful.

Placing the pieces back together for wholeness,
Each fragment brings a new reflection,
Day by day more and more of you is repaired.

A mosiac of shyness and condemnation,
You are the mirror that shuns its own reflection,
Do you realize your potential?

If I put you back together and made you one,
If I carried you so that you would never break again,
Would you realize your fragments are incandescent?

A clash of theories on what your reflection shows,
Self doubting and the other knowing the enchantment,
You are a mirror upon the wall.

Summer

An angel that hovers in the corner,
Watching with her newly found vision.
She is the nightmare not the hope.

Does she even realize the torment,
Her light brings disaster and choas.
She is blinding not all seeing.

Floating as if held by the water,
Above the sea that is drowing me.
She doesn't breathe life but death.

A cold touch, a frosted breath, darkness,
Does she realize she is the deliverer?
She was the death to my love.

Unexplained

The arch that separates to the inner side of you
A forming of lines that makes the day feel brighter.
From this there comes the positive.

The piercing of the brown orbs that show you everything
Would they show the feeling hidden inside?
From this there comes the mystery.

An untouchable flame that is most inviting
But at the same time so distant.
From this there comes the negative.

A time that allows anything to happen
The fleeting notion of what Pandora left.
From this will come the answer.

Just Because

One day I'll fly away
Leaving everything I know
Hoping for the teachings of
Of that which cannot be spoken.

One day I won't be so blind
I'll have vision to see what
What others have yet to see
And words they have not heard.

Today is the begininng and the end
End of the day of realization
For what my mind has seen
And for what it has observed through speech.

Tomorrow is the past
Present of what is now found
Yesterday is now forgotten
Never to be lived, seen or spoken of again.