i hate being uncertain about certain things
especially so when it's 'em hurtin things
but as a writing frenchman once penned

"Of course I'll hurt you
Of course you'll hurt me
Of course we will hurt each other
But this is the very condition of existence
To become spring means accepting the risk of winter..."

and with all winters
warm rosy summers lie ahead.

When I ask myself whether or not
the puzzle pieces of your mind fit mine,
I don't find myself haphazardly tying a knot
to try and hold some faltering sinews in line:
a shove of very different selves pit taut
by a fraying rope of rosy tongue-tied lies
I might've devised upon many a thought
in trying to assuage some "mild" despise...

I don't feel the need to lie about you
when I consider the likelihood
of the likeness of our lenses...

Our tastes meld together in a complementary recipe
of a quality fondness topped in cherry
(and I quite like their utter lack
of back-and-forth oaken pretenses).

im sorry i say i love you too much.
sometimes the moment
winds itself just a little more such
that the feeling needs my mouth
as a conduit for its expression

but perhaps ill spare my words--
to be thrifty in these exchanges
of uttered affection blurs
not the feeling's existence:
the butterflies are still there,
but shall manifest themselves elsehow,
as hugs and kisses strewn
across the skyline of the ever-forgiving night

surely i wont stop saying i love you...
but the instances i do shall
flaunt a heavier shade of red
once i save such statements
for moments unmet
in vibrance, strength and
their capacity to lend our cheeks
a palette of bright rosy hues.

i swear we're rarely at ease
with the way we push doors to new experiences
kissing on public property isn't illegal
but the nerve of the act thrills me just as much

parking lots are often not the site
for love birds deprived of merry lip locking
but we paint them red better
than an arsonist with a burning passion
can shade his buildings black

i wish i could watch that night
play itself once more
on a lofty screen just for us
while we do it perhaps again--

the way i took your form
and made it rest against a certain sedan...
the way i kissed you then
while my body leaned on yours...
the way we held that kiss
despite the bustling of the city night...
the way you looked at me
when we paused for a moment's sake...

i could tell you were so ******* high
(and im sure you could tell i was too)

i just want you to tie me up
while you stand in front
holding me down
with your flustering stare...

you'd tease my weary mind,
bringing us closer
to the summits of cloud nine
but never quite actually there.

but at the same time
on other days,
in just as frequent that occasion,
i just want to hug you
and nothing more--
to litter our days with sweet exchanges of affection
while we toss around wholesome words of endearment--

my sweet lovelet,
my pretty darling,
my caramell...
how i love the way we love

is it just me
or is the thought of shared death
a truly romantic affair?

and i don't mean
to die together
of old age...

to fall in each other's arms
following an overdose of *****
while we slip six feet under
listening to the smiths--

"and if a double-decker bus
crashes into us
to die by your side
is such a heavenly way to die"

i wanna die together
with our lips locked in an embrace
while we swing back and forth
across an empty ballroom floor

"and if a ten ton truck
kills the both of us
to die by your side
is such a heavenly way to die"

is it just me
or am i ****** up?

(at least then
you'd be the last thing
i see)

you'd lie on my lap
with nothing much to say
and there i'd bend
to meet your wandering gaze...
the rain, however light,
would feign tears on your face
tears i'd pretend
betrayed a sense of elation--
had they been yours
i would've cried just the same.

surely, i say,
that day's a purple aster
in my garden patch of greys,
a haughty little lamppost
along an awry little highway...

that day was
(and i'd say it again,
without thinking about lifting
the spout tipping my pen)
a lovely day, a ten outta ten

ride off into the sunset with me
and if we dont burn
we can say its us ;)

we wouldve waltzed then and there...
the sky and its thousand eyes
would bear witness to that spectacle of a moment:
a trade of footsteps and a synchrony of motion--

we'd wonder why
despite being lost in each other's eyes
we could render such a dynamic embrace
and paint the night a rosy red hue...

i say that perhaps then
the goddess of love
has taken the wheel.

some say i think of you too much
but so long as overdose on thoughts of you is a ways away,
ill keep taking these memories with a cup of jasmine tea--
id rather count my days with you
than the sheep I see in bed.