I don't know why I miss you so much
for you always seemed to make me sad.
Yet I ache to feel the warmth of your touch
and I long for the love we once had.

I miss the taste of your soft, sweet kiss,
and feeling your lips touching mine.
I have never known desire like this,
so raw, so deep, so divine.

I miss your fingers, how they would tease,
and your strong arms, holding me tight.
I miss how you always aimed to please
on those many 'a sleepless night.

I miss how your eyes touched my soul,
how your smile melted my heart.
Without you, dear, I'm half of a whole,
and inside, I'm falling apart.

I miss the smell, so uniquely your own
that is now just a faded memory.
I miss the affection that once was shown,
I miss loving you, loving me.

I miss hearing your voice speak my name,
and the soothing, comfort it brought.
I wonder....sometimes, do you feel the same?
Or am I just a passing thought?

I miss what was my very best friend,
my partner in crime & lover, too.
And although our story has come to an end,
I can't help but still miss you...

Here I stand again, by myself
In a different spot, in the same moment.
I've been all my life running through these cycles,
New people, new girlfriend, new activities, new place
As they always do, at some point they run low and I run far,
I keep my distance, enough to get warm, enough so I won't get burnt.
Even so, in the end, I make the
same mistake, everytime a season falls
I stretch out from this safe sacred shell I've built to
protect myself, only to regret leaving, only to regret ever even
building it in the first place. So, as the last leaf falls I'll be there, getting close to the fire and the certainty of getting a deep burn.
I feel pathetic, do you know what pathetic means? It's not what you'd expect,
I'm not what you'd expect,
you're all more than I expected.
Maybe that's my sin, to burn for not letting people in earlier,
to burn and realise it's ok. You don't have to fall in love today, not again. Just kiss her and move on. You don't have to feel alone today, not again. Just hug them and move on.    Tomorrow a new season begins, maybe for a day, maybe for five more years, maybe the last you will ever see.
Do you see some sort of metric in this "poem"? Do you see it's shape unfolding right through your eyes as you read? You're mistaken, it means nothing, it's much simpler than you think, I can never convince you of that, though. And, as the cicada's song, our cycle repeats, it's funny;
It's tragic;
It's real.

Stars sprinkle the inky night sky
Like crumbs of diamonds on a still, midnight ocean.
I am not afraid to be here, alone,
In the vastness of twilight.
For these few moments, time is as long
As the space between those stars,
And as empty, too.
The uncertainty that sunrise will follow.
As sure as the sun is destined to rise everyday,
When there's only darkness surrounding you,
Pierced slightly by the silvery glow of moonlight...
You're all alone and helpless.
You only have the vague hope that the sun will return.
And as I sit here now, star-gazer,
Faceless nomad on the damp grass;
I feel immortal, and I am afraid
That I will always be alone with the stars.

I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.

in this
pocketful
        of limbo
          the distance rises
               in curls of smoke
        a prairie fire
siphoning into
crisp edge
           of forest
          Inside my
uncloaked ventricle
primeval forces
turn my blood into
dusted gold
as they pump
        sacred texts
into my oxygen
      They roll your quintessence
upon my fingers,
            playing inside
     my psyche's  
wild ache
a spread of orifice
in spellbound mantra,
       as I spit out
          the
            hairy thorns,
a holy purge of
   internal
        engravings
    
Somehow ---
like a miracle,
I grow ripe seedlings
from deep within
            my womb
as I trip into
a universe rising
I take wisps
of your grace
as it brushes
the jut of my
astral collarbone
You are always
         grounding me
                    like this,
               my tongue
              tripping
         over velvet
stance of warrior
        assuaged into silk
    
        Without you,
I might be
whisked off into
the periphery
of chaos
but instead
       I am simply
tied to
      the urgency
of the little novas
about to
        explode

While I wait
            I tend to
              the wildfires.
     to make sure they
                   are still burning
I keep my honey
wet and fresh
upon your
                   lips,
let my pores
drip moonpools
    into your glistening
wet of mouth
and only when
          it is time
I let the whole of
           me burst
into the
      fire -wrapped
tips of
   stars