What if I told you
that I was in
love
and that all
the while I've
been lonely

that time has healed
(like they said it would)
but love remains
(like I knew it would)
so I'm in trouble
(of course, I would)

So I'm saying,
I'm in love.

I want to tell
the world you're mine
and swoon to every
color in the
Louvre
to every track of
Chopin playing
painting love
inside my mind

I want to dissolve into
conquest
into pomegranate
crimson desire
and melt like
candle
wax deep
into
the
night

I want to feel your
arms in
mine
your touch
in mine
the slowly lingering
vibrato of your
high note against
mine

high key
and saturate
and every ounce
of vermillion from the
tube to where it falls it falls it falls
and you are mine.

I want to form cities on my tongue, built up with all the beautiful things I've never said to you. The people would be clothed in white, and the skyscrapers would kiss my palette. I would take you to sit on the park benches, where fingernails have indented the wood and first kiss dates were carved into the backrest. I would walk you down the sidewalk, made up of all the unspoken "I miss you's" and let you pick flowers that have bloomed in the cracks between the pavement. I would show you the beauty in the darkness of empty alleyways, I would hold your hand on the edge of the tallest bridge. I would kiss you in front of the world, and shout my love for you into the void.
There are so many words you have never heard. So many times my lips have articulated "I love you" but never followed with a sound to resonate it. Maybe that's why we're not in the city. Maybe that's why you're at the other end of the room starring at walls, waiting for them to cave in and fill the silence. We always wanted more than this, but I have this fear of leaving and you have a fear of losing what was never yours. I hope I can show you the city someday, maybe you'll see my love for you clearly under bright lights. But until then, I'm trying to find it in me to get my tongue untied.

He offered me wine but I refused for I don't drink.
He offered me a cigarette but I refused for I don't smoke.

He offered me his heart
and I took it
because I was longing to be
loved.

There are days when
my mind is clear
and I can see the
edge of love

I see the cliff
I'm holding to
and I knowingly
watch my step

the sun seems higher
and the clouds seem
full
and every quiet moment
doesn't hurt so bad

and then there are the
days ahead
where love does not
exist anywhere
near where I was or
am

There's no step to
watch
no intention
no facade
or "one, two, three."

and the sunset's
brighter here.

The crickets sing
louder here.  

the birds have a
song that I don't
recognize here
and it seduces me,
all the same

Here there's so much pain
and depth
to feeling everything
and all

You tipped me over. I spilled my words into your hands, they filled the creases in your palms and the spaces between your fingers. You held them as though they were malleable, crushed them with strength and shook them off as though they were something ***** that you couldn't get rid of. I still remember the night I found you trying to pick up the pieces, looking for the hidden message behind what I tried to tell you. Your knuckles ******, your face dripping with sweat, your eyes clothed in desperation. You replaced the heart on your sleeve with a broken one. You never gave me the parts of you that didn't need fixing. I wish you stopped blaming me for being the reason you're still filled with apathy, I wish you would of realized that I spent all this time looking for the right way to tell you I'm not what you're looking for. I wish everything I said was enough for you to leave, I wish my hands were strong enough to push you away. We both know that you're stronger than me; but I hope you wake up one day and realize I stopped loving you before you started. I hope one day you can wash your hands clean ; I hope you realize I never wanted to be the one weighing you down.

I had a dream
in French
and black and
white

a dream where you
were in America
en fin
and I was high on
Crater Lake

I had a dream
where your skin
survived
it did survive
the coldest blow
the ash
the snow
in the Caldera's dance

where sheets
of violet
embers and
clothes
hanging on the line
blew in rhythm
to my French
two-step
and my ombre
shades of time

I had a dream that you
were here
and that you
never died.