you're like the taste of hot chocolate
on a cold winter's night;
the beauty of a painting
on very first sight.
you're like the smell of flowers
when they begin to bloom;
i hope that i will hold you
real soon.

Does it count as hot chocolate
if its only lukewarm?
If it tastes like bitter raw garlic,
or acid rain?

It burned the skin off your tongue
and dulled your taste buds…

…And still on fire are your fantastical day dreams
inspired by watching those wandering clouds that,
as it turns out, were actually marshmellows
floating, not in a never ending sky,
but in a bounded, off-white mug
with a cracked handle
whose pieces were sloppily super-glued
back together.

Maybe one day we will cross paths at an art gallery
and
everything
will
be
ok
again

Would it make any difference
if I stood in a field of clover
beneath a velvet sky
studded with stars
that glowed with delight
and swayed to the music
of the rhythms of the night?

Would you believe
that this magik
was made for you and I?