If I could touch next year,
and guarantee your faith
extend the olive couch
prolong the cooking sessions

Kiss your cheeks every night
like grass holding fingers
I too would linger a little longer
put the tea on just an hour later

and hold you up again,
like our four perfect walls

I want the best for you.
Awarded by frank necessities,
the last good thing,
and the first morning coffee.

I used to think that I
could love anyone willing,
and so it became you.
Honest, direct, and kind.

I did not always know that
love can only be eager.
To change who it is,
only to play the part.

So, You help me run my lines.

You were never complicated,
static lover with broken headphones.
Backing all my thoughts with,
“I understand you.”
Taking things literally,
you hold my truths every night.
Swallowing my over thoughts
for, what if it worked out this time?
Never getting mad at me,
you kiss my forehead more than twice.
Telling me again that,
It should always be alright.

As if the sum
of all my parts,
had fallen into
an hourglass,
and hours passed
beyond your shoulders,
baring heavy truths,
like the gentle
touch of Eros,
without clarity.

I shine orange in the light,
of our hazy bitter May.
Holding birthday cards
that pool in a loving display.
Have you ever felt warmth?
Giving up your vacant spaces,
to welcome thoughtful comfort.
Dear God, I hope to feel loved,
with every ounce of rest
that comes with the territory.
Green hills that rise up, softly
blending into endless bounty.
Resting my head between creeks.
I would bring my straw basket,
and pick a few cherries,
just to see if i could win you over.

Timid falling cedar and birch
who hears you falling down?
Like my eager creeks should,
or my bouldering shoulders.
Again we try to graze,
making hast with premonitions.
A farmers almanac sits
and I have noticed change
long before it’s been heard.

I hope you feel the warm cracked skin,
thumbs that twiddle against you,
in spaces that were once cold.
Woven grains of sweet serenity,
made of golden locks with bold initials.
Because initially you weren’t yourself.
And today you are something much better.
You hold a room like you’re a guest,
a door like it’s a sincere promise.
Taking care of rough details in harmony,
and together you are dignified softly.
Only to open the next.