I spell “I love you” on the lines of your collarbone

and I always try to go from one end to another,
brushing calligraphy strokes with my tongue
and blotting your skin as a page with my lips.

I never really have finished saying it,
and I guess I never will

my motions are lost among your curves
and my lips almost always end up
meeting yours somewhere in the middle.

They say that actions
Speak louder than words
So please
Let me hold you close
And instead of whispering into your ear
I'll lean over
And plant my words
Directly onto your lips

He loves me with an innocence
So far behind his thirty years
That it should be a sin
To call us blasphemous
As many have.
It's in the way he breathes as he sleeps;
He is easy and fluent in his being.
I am at a loss for words tonight,
Though I speak to him as he rests.
He is as still as a coma patient
Yet somehow a smile creeps across his lips.
These are the wonderful things to me.

Goodnight my darling,
I hope your dreams are charming,
As I love you with all my heart,
And can't bare it when we are apart,
So promise me you will dream,
Of a flowing gentle stream,
Its a cold starry night,
No reason to be a fright,
As I am always with you,
No matter how far I seem,
I will always be in your dreams.

I met her in a line
for expensive coffee
picked by honest hands
she wore a scarf
from morocco where she
had never been or smelled
she says her name as if
her mind were elsewhere
so I smile and nod and turn
and look at the ground
thinking of pink stratus clouds