Making love was never about you and me being naked together in a bed.

We made love whenever we held hands.

And I want to tell her that I understand
what it feels like to be fake, insignificant,
and a shadow on the sidewalk of society.

And I want to tell her that I also borrow
the experiences of others --
that I, too, learn feelings
by stopping and staring at personal wreckage,
like a tourist of emotions,
like an inevitable wish of a human being.

We spent three months of our lives
Together almost everyday
In some formation
We formed our own family
Dysfunctional in all the usual ways
We're all young
And still in love with the world
But terrified of our own lives
It was a perfect mix

We spent car rides together
Squealing and singing, dancing and shouting
Watching flamingoes sleep on lake shores
And llamas grazing by the roadside
We saw condors swooping overhead
As we climbed what felt like mountains
Compared to us
Sleeping underneath more stars
Than we had imagined were in the sky

We got lost and found our ways back
We got happy, waiting on lay-bys
We got up
At 4am, awoken by the sound of
Out of tune harmonicas
And your shouting
We fell asleep
To the sound of each other's heavy breathing
Exhausted but satisfied

Now we're apart
But from our own bonds
Woven like siblings,
Like friends,
Some of us like lovers
And all we have left
Are the photos we took together
And the memories
That I hope will last my lifetime

You're so psychedelic,
You burst into vivid colors
In the style of a kaleidoscope,
Because only something so beautiful
Could represent
Your light

You're my favorite hallucination
I imagine your hand reaching out,
I try to grab it,
then suddenly you disappear
Like the smoke from my cigarette
Into the thin air
I am clamoring to breathe

sometimes
in order to breathe
i smother my lungs
with funny things
then exhale you
with a sigh of relief
just to wake up
the very next night
suffocating again
amidst the fight

It's not till you're deprived that you can really love something
Anyone who has gone to a foreign speaking country can understand this
the words being spoken are stripped of all meaning to you
Then you go home and there's no more translating or confusion
You understand  
When you touch me I understand
I sense every subtle advance and fight to deny subjectiveness
But your language is too convincing, too poetic and I melt under your finger tips
they trace the trails of my silent desires in pursuit of the never ceasing void
The black hole that never stops consuming because there can never be enough
Fill me with pages and pages more than a million libraries
If not you, then perhaps the next
This is my language and you speak it so well
Then one day I'm stranded
Tens of thousands of years it seems on a desert island where the islanders don't speak the same language as I do
But one day I'm rescued and able to speak to the rescuer
It clicks back so easily and there is a deep appreciation for dialogue after being deprived
Now talk me to sleep as your hands roll across my back like the tide
Tell me what I Need to get me by before I'm stranded once more