@The Jacket.
Love, can I treat you like I treat my jacket? Taking you wherever I go, showing the love I have for you through my sleeves and tuning you to my body, pulsating throbs of my heart as our two frictions force reaction.
I want to have you close to me, heavy hood be your hair as it sinks close to me, covering my neck with loving protection, covering my shoulders with your arms entwined with mine as if we were truly one, covering my length and letting me know that we are at a temperature of comfort and ability.
I want your body to clothe me, zip up tight and never let go, hugging me with all the comfort in the world and lifting yourself as to be a silent watcher to me, a shield to my being from the enemies that threaten us.
I want your hands to be the pockets, close yet separate, deeply rooted as if it were your faith placed near my sides. Holding me as I hold you.
I want our love to be the zipper, running through both our forms, creating a new feeling, making a new being, forging us.
Yet who are we? Who are we to claim to be so close in cloth yet so young in mind, so strong in emotion and so weak in body?
We are the very fabric of nature, hooking to machines that form the sewed outlines of other such fabrics, forming the earth and inciting war among our emotion.
We walk through the public proudly, you clinging to me and I, chest puffed like a bird in mating season, acquiring a taste for the strange looks and stranger people who deem to judge us based on their understanding.
Hot weather, cold weather, mild and comfortable weather. Rain or snow, sleet, hail, or hell’s heat, I intend to keep you close, as you are more than cloth covering me, you are the being caressing me, kissing my spirit and cradling my heart in the warm grasps of your fabrics, pressed closely to my chest in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, hiding my form so that none shall see what I deem stay hidden.
And I shall love you, I shall do all that I can to keep you safe and keep you near, mend you and wash you, clearing your mind and body of the impure, soaking your fabric and drying them out once more. Tonguing your soul while hugging you back, rubbing your threaded flaws and letting you know that they are necessary, that they are noted and left as forgotten. Unafraid to dawn you and worthy to criticize yet keeping grateful to have you when the nights get cold and my soul needs your warmth.
The world is a cruel place, and it gets worse every day, which is why, my love, I want you to be my jacket, and I shall be yours.

the best poet on hello poetry
they keep to themself
they hardly communicate with others
they're writing stays on the shelf

the best poet on hello poetry
writes down what's in their head
no poetry sisters and brothers
they are the one who is never read

Isn’t love what we think it is? You have me falling in love like a trap-door, and I’m all yours once I re-enter. You are my space, everytime I’m around you I get blank that way you may fill me with your tales, with the memories of you and I, us and we. Plural life as if we were words, but in a way we are. I can go down a list of adjectives that describe you, yet only one word describes us.
Infatuated.
Our souls are two blades curved in on themselves, yet when they are placed together form the sacred symbol of what we find as love. Irony in it’s purest form.
You refuse to cease to amaze me, so grant me this one favor, when you hear the voices of your past, think of my voice, my walk, my face, my hands, my love. I will forever miss what we will have when the days are done.
You place me in a garden of echoes. I hear them wherever I go, so is it safe to tell you that you are my garden? Is it safe that you know that your voice is like a lullaby to me? Because it’s true. Without the mellifluous voice of intimatic emotions biting on my ear, I can’t function correctly.
So I always miss what I have, what I may lose one day, but I always remember that an echo isn’t an echo until it is found once more by the ears of the one that had sent it’s vibes askew. So I’ll be waiting, my love, until I find your voice becoming my echo.

my generation spans miles at convenience stores, backing eachother when it comes to the video games and electronics that keep us combined in ways meaning friendship in real life, and best friends in virtual reality.
Yet my race keeps itself in a way that makes us look destined to destruct, to love each other and then spit in the face of our loved ones as if we were meaning disrespect.
Why?
Why is it that a poet can understand things in different ways than other people yet the thoughts be the same? why is it that one can be brought to tears and bring up gender as if it makes a difference?
I haven't a clue, but it makes a soul hurt, it makes thoughts begin to wonder and minds to ache in contemplation.

My heart is like an animal, and you, my love, the tamer.
You are the very glue that holds me together, and I think you know it. From the first time I saw you pass me in the hallway, I knew that our souls would somehow connect, and you were to be my other soul, my other part, a new me.
Did you feel it too? Did you know what it was I was feeling? Because I felt like you did. From your shy laugh to your sullen conversation, all of you intrigued me, and you didn’t even have to try. I knew I was probably a few numbers down on your list, but this wasn’t the lottery for us, we were meant, and ironically it took longer for us both to recognize it and shorter for us to separate, yet still be together in spirit.
When I saw you that day, and you saw me, I knew the flame was reconnected as if it were fed into the very pit of which it would burn and multiply for all eternity, a new born flame for a newly forged love.
We are the fire
I the flame
You the fuel
Yet neither is effective without the other, for what is a flame without its fuel? It’s a mere spark, one whose heat may be felt for mere half instances and leaving a forsaken light to show its treachery. No, that wilt not be us this here day.
You and I know what this is; an intermission to us is actually a life-time to the world. Let us glide on the wind that we produce through the rotations of our natural axis, rotating around each other like dance partners, yet no sport do we see this as.
You’ve asked before what my hidden intentions were, and I was honest with it, I have none. Yet because of the cracks in your heart and the chips taken off of your acceptance and pride, you refuse me. But I’ll be patient, waiting for you like the crops wait on the sun for their nourishments, but don’t keep me waiting too long lest you drive my soul away from you.
Now do you see it? I am truer than a fable told by the witness, you can put trust in me. But no, you don’t see me the way I do. Over time I may be able to break down your barriers, but not at once. And when that time comes, when I miraculously pass your tests, I want you to look me in my eyes, smile that beautiful smile and speak to me.
“My love, his love, her love, their former, my current, and their never seen future. Love me like I love you, for now that I see into you my air is lighter and my courage raised because I know that I have you backing me no matter what. Thank you for the love, for without it I would not have managed. Kiss me like you do, that way I can feel your heat adding to mine as if this were addition.”
And I would kiss you. I’d watch you bite your lip as if you were confused and make you believe what you have seen, the true love of a king, a god, a lover, your lover. That one that sees you as a friend that is closer than the rest will ever get, that one that keeps your secrets passed the grave, past eternity, past indefinitely and all the way until the end. Your shoulder filled with the tears you cry and the confessions that you spoke. Your necessary outside view in every situation you require me, and your third-party vote against whatever you deem unfit for you.
Love me like you do and we shall be fine, for your delicious love is all my taste-buds have ever, ever desired.