I want to write a million poems to you
About you
How can I find the words
I feel so stunned every time I find your eyes looking back at me
A deer in headlights
A moth in your flame
A slow burn
Intricacies of my insecurities and desires lay plainly in my head and a dumbfounded smile unfolds across my face
I write to understand
To make sense of myself and all the things
I can't find to say to you
in the present
I push the blinds apart and stare widely with a softened smile
As you move further, trotting down the sidewalk of my apartment complex
I squeeze each moment of tightly
Before you turn the corner
I think
"happy"
because you were there with me
Then sad
with longing
But I know that one who doesn't long for someone or something is stagnate
So much longing has surfaced since we met
The lust for experience
Back again, full frontal
I imagine moving down the calm waters of the San Juan
Me on the oars, you in bow
Setting up camp on the riverside
Finding space and time
to wander through each other's minds
with a campfire to light the way
Expedition talk, you say
Much to conquer, but not you
I want to trek uphill towards your peak everyday
and never arrive
Can you blame me
when each step is sweeter than the last?
These words are my longing
and I'm so content to sit and let them unravel in our parting
Nov 1, 2022
Nov 1, 2022 at 3:57 PM UTC
To be loved or
To love
Must we choose?
I am the beloved
Yet I see myself from only within looking out
And believe I
am just the lover
Unchoosing to be both
In spite of, and thanks to my experience
I believe in the moments where we are both the beloved
Those moments fade
Into cool memories
Cozy in my mind
Until they become stinging cold
Like when my bare foot crunches down into the thin layer of snow halfway the drive to get the mail
Oh how it feels to be the lover
Oh how it feels to be the loved
The lover finds ecstasy in their beloved
Why then must the lover expect anything from the beloved?
Is the gift not in the experience of loving?
What is it to be desired
If you do not know desire yourself?
Will we be ever be satisfied?
I surely hope not.
Nov 1, 2022
Nov 1, 2022 at 2:46 PM UTC
I want to draw you but my pen knows nothing of your ways
It has no idea how restless you become with breath on your neck
or whispers in your ear
And paper could never hold these moments properly
It doesn’t hear your moan
Or feel your fingers
And only your bed could know of how we grip and hold each other as we fall to sleep
SAB
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
An ordinary room and childhood bed
transforms-
A temple buzzing with countless energies.
This entanglement of bodies and emotion becomes a sacrament of liberation.
My fingers intertwined at your sacral, my tongue at your root.
It’s a prayer of pleasing and longing.
An uncontrolled opening of self
At the alter of another.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
I've found
so many
hiding places.
Tucked myself neatly
into other people's
lives.
I've found myself
in closets [of my own shame] [of my mother's shame]
where you store the things you'd like to love
but just quite don't.
I dove through masses of clouds I pulled from near by.
I decided to stay beneath them.
All around me hung the weight of the humidity.
It drew my face towards the ground,
where I adored so many beautiful things.
How long though, would I cling to beauty of the ground
as clouds kept me down?
A ray of light slipped between a crack,
It's warmth touched my crown.
As my eyes lifted up, my mind did too.
In the spaces between where the sun shined through,
there was something new.
I rejoiced!
And rejoice to this day for the love the light provided on that gloomy day.
I rejoice to witness the birth of my oldest and most cherished,
friend.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 12:59 AM UTC
It began gloom and gray
I lay inside all day
My schedule gone to hell
Waking up at 2:00 pm.
A summer day
Ready to be seized
But there I lay.
Dinner plans lighten the day
I gather myself and my things
And make my way.
Drinks follow serendipitously
Of wheat and sweet shrooms
Tracers meet my eyes in all corners
I fall to sleep with a sweet
But lay to my wake all night
So here I speak of this organic happening I call Monday July 16.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
If I had known
how you adored the
snow
I never would
have called the
sun
back home.
And if you had told
me
that puddles
remind you of darker
days, I would
have insisted
we lay inside
during spells of rain.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
Ink stains like blood
My poems spill only
one-sided stories
I paint over the words
But it cannot be covered
by brighter phrases
Like a ghost
Who lives on my pages
Screaming it will not be expelled
just because I'd like it to go
When I leave it alone
It only whispers
to be remembered
I decide to leave it
there a little while longer
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
Curiosity killed the cat I'm told but was I also told it kills the soul?
No.
Ignorance is bliss when your mind is latched with no intentions of finding the keys.
Don't question what you've been told you cannot understand.
Begin chipping the stone below your feet until it washes away.
You'll have to wade the water or give way.
You will sit in the heat of the sun while trying to connect your stem back to your root.
Don't question what you could never understand, the most almighty.
Slowly you will be crushed back into the dust from which you came.
Do not sereve yourself from all that is "good."
Break.
Tears roll atop pores of my face to dry lips
Salty truths no longer a gray cloud above my head.
Pit Pat, Pit Pat
The rain dances on the headstone of my Christian beliefs.
From earth and water a star eyed child is given birth by help of moonlight.
Now galaxies float above my skull
seeping into the cracks.
These beliefs cannot be transcribed to teach others.
Scrap the mud from your ears and eyes.
Listen to the whispers.
Relinquish your physical sight.
Let the wind baptize you in truth.
Sometimes we must die to live again.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
You put body before mind
and should be weary of your words at this time.
Desires blowing fires through
your skin, be genuine.
Bite the drunk tongue
even through bleedin'.
Don't let me wipe it clean
until you've said what you truly mean.
You put mind before body
and I'm not weary of your words spoken then.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC