You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen,
of course I don't know who I am anymore.

What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say:

Him.

The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off.

So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near.

Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's.

But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being.

Supplies needed:
One strong pencil.
Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction.

Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question.

I have so many questions.

And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay.

Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn.

Reboot.
Restart.
Rewire.

*Relearn.

I placed my lips on your neck, curved away from me, looking out the window
your soft hair stood up but you said nothing,
silent as the green countryside passing by.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know", you said. It wasn't dismissive this time; it had been in the past
when we were still laughing on Princes Street and window shopping like all the other tourists.
Your insouciant smiles soothed that sinking feeling that was beginning to grow in my chest.
It was premature then but it had ripened now. All that careless energy evaporated.
I wanted to look into your eyes but I had to make do with their ghost on the glass, looking not at me
but somewhere else, or some time else perhaps.
Your hand fell on my lap warm and still. For a moment I felt like a man on the execution block
wanting desperately to stretch out time, by some alchemy turn a single moment into an eternity.
The hills no longer racing by but only passing slowly helped fuel my desperate wish.
An electric pre-recorded voice announced what I already knew it would.
You looked at me finally granting my wish. Your big brown eyes like still oceans. I could
no longer sail in them; I was drowning. You smiled a sweet smile and kissed me on the lips.
"Where are you going?"
"Away,"
I was too weak with sadness to embrace you, and I knew you knew. You got up, your soft curls
brushing against my cheek.
"Goodbye Andrew."
I counted your footsteps to the end of the car as if a number could give me power over them.
The train started up again, but I felt emptier than the car I was now sitting in.
A solitary hot tear fell down my cold cheek while I sat watching my Gypsy lover disappear into the distant green hills.

You sit quietly
With fidgeting hands
Lacing fingers into your own
That you wish were hers
Gravity from the black hole
That is the mid-west pulls you further
Into her stunning rings of brown eyes
Strawberry tipped, Large ******* and a mouth that could **** start a Harley
A pen in hand you doodle
Glancing up at a clock that should be melting
Going as slow as tree sap on a January morning
You wonder of she is careless or careful
Does she laugh that loud in person
Or only when she  occupies that space around her that glows

I just want to be loved. Want to be loved, and know that it is real. Not carry around these doubts and fears and suspicions. I want to hold someone in my arms that I care more about than myself. I want forever in an embrace and infinity in a kiss and passion and longing in the hours that I am not in their presence.
I want to find the things that I have been writing into other people since I was twelve years old manifest in a real person. And I want someone to find those things in me. I want to be capable of seeing those things in myself, and sharing them with someone. I want to be able to sacrifice myself without compromising who I have become, allowing myself to be a martyr without being put on a pedestal for it.
I want to be able to accept myself as someone who loves me would. I want to see my value outside of a lover's afterglow, yet through their eyes. I want the truth, from whichever perspective it rings most true.
Most of all, I want to be able to see why you still love me after everything when I find it so difficult to love myself after all of the same everything...
I want to know the truth, as seen through your eyes, before I cast judgement through my own.

I crawled myself home
Soaking wet through the trees
After standing for hours outside of your window
Hoping for a peak
Into your warm light insides

I thought about that summer night

When you told me to open up my eyes
Turn skyward my hands of light
Paint the stars across it's silky midnight blue
You said it changes when I touch it
Soft at first then sweeping strokes
I never forgot the hitch in your voice
As you watched me work
We talked til bright rays touched us at morning

I grew cold as I waited
The night settling into my bones

You never came home

I wonder if she is special
Special like you said I was
Hauling my bruises and heartache onto the porch
Tears mingle with rain as I cry myself to sleep
Against my door frame
Hearing your voice whisper through the trees
*Open your eyes. Paint with light.

There's a certain mix of alcohol on the breath that reminds me of a hug.
So, drunk *** doesn't bother me
as much as it's a preference.

My father drank himself into hospital beds
floating on his shattered tibia
believing it would carry him home.

But all good memories are ***** christmas lights.

Now, everything is more or less the same
except I sleep with you invisible.
I can't feel your heat
or smell the whiskey
but if my eyelids are tight I can feel you next to me
miles away.

I hear an opera
Somebody is home upstairs
Let's drown them out with a shower.
Turn the jazz up high
as I
We
Will dance: slowly, sleepily
Naked in the mirror
Until the water gets hot enough