It's not
a matter
of having
to go fast—
more
like a past
to pass.

The now
is not a stone
to pocket—
but a light-foot
moment
in grass.

Time
is not a rope—
but a breath
of smoke
looped in hope.

We live
in peace
knowing
hills
can speak their fill—
not chasing
what's gone
or not here—
just breathing
where they belong.

He moves
without fear—
a guardian
of the undergrowth—
muscle drawn
from absence.

No call
no herd—
just the knowing
he is not
looked for
but missed—
ever strong
ever vigilant.

His eyes
carry distance and hope
like dawn
in their corners—
soft-footed
on trails
only they remember—
he is not lost
just not followed.

A body shaped
by leaving—
a statuesque
lone deer
keeping watch.

You make—
my lips
wonder for your curves
drawn slow like rivers
brushing against your banks.

You make—
my heart
into a crescent
turning my blood
into tide—
my eyes into fallen lids
in reverence
and surrender—
the mere sight of you
making me bow.

You make—
the night
stretch longer
the stars jealous
of the way
you hold the light—
time softening my spine
melted moments
between shoulder blades
and spoons—
make everything
a little softer
a little better
a little more alive.

I always wonder
how things look
from your side—

If the light bends softer
through your windows
if sorrow
sits quieter in your chest
unbothered—
cooling
on the windowsill
of a mad house.

You see the world
like a fingertip
tracing fog on glass—
not to erase
but to understand
what’s underneath.

You are someone
who makes
even the broken
shine differently—
for me
you are on the side
no one else
can reach.

It is not just when the wind cuts
like the sharp side of a sigh
and the grit of the world
burns hard
against my lids.

It is when I am asked
too much of the moment—
the cordial crush of a hand
against the shy curve
of my wrist—

I close my mind
when the light rushes
through my lashes
when it spills over my knowing
too bright, too quick—
memory sharpens
teeth biting down
on the soft parts of me.

The world turns
into a room too crowded—
promises clambering over each other
their breath pressing
thick and restless
waiting for me
to choose one to believe in.

And sometimes
it is only for the sake
of opening them again
to see the world sharper—
to let the colors
bleed into my seeing
to watch the light
forgive me
for looking away.

this kids,
is how you do it

in the mid of the dark hours,
when two am is your new oldest friend
when sleep, your oldest old one,
left town on the midnight train,
taking your peace of mind

though she is far away
lost in dream-thoughts caught,
but only twelve inches close,
granting you an unasked permission,
you ok to stroke her hair,
undisturbing her, yet comforting yourself,
every voice in your temple'd altar praying,
one glorious chorus godly chant:

Oh Lord, what would I do without her?

and you stroke her hair and are saved.


2:51am

May 2014

I have so many
Different sides to me
I'm starting to think
I'm geometry

Kiss me in the darkness.
Touch me how you want to!

Let the feeling take you,
to places you've never been to.

There is truth in the darkness,
for our souls will find the light,
the light in each other
which brings such delight.

So Kiss me in the darkness,
Let our souls fly to the sun.

Stay with me past the morning,
For our love has just begun.