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AC Brooks Nov 2011
If I could write music

I would write the symphony that is you
but only the sound of your heart next to mine could play it
only your lips on mine would sing it
and only in your arms could we hear it
AC Brooks Oct 2011
he wondered to himself,
the cold air of a new season sitting on the windows ledge,
how did you know it was you i wanted,
that i waited for,
for so long,
i was the side way walking crab,
afraid you might see me.

now i want nothing more...
how i wait for you in this dream...
AC Brooks Oct 2011
short it was but certainly sweet...
the taste of the wine, salt, shivering heat …
the racing hearts…

frozen moment in my lovers loves most uncertain task…
task not so deep, my lovers love I am sure runs deep,
quivering hand and slightest touch,
my lovers love, oh so salty, salty sweet…

this first kiss…
so very short…

my lost lovers love
how now
I do weep…
AC Brooks Oct 2011
I’m unsure,
What happens next?
That light in the seemingly never ending darkness seems to have diminished; a wavering reminder of where I want to be, who I want to be, who I am seems but a distant fading star. Coldness holds me in this place in this darkness and lonely in this, this life I grasp for what’s real and it falls through my fingers, these stained digits of hopelessness clenching at nothingness.
White knuckled in despair,
I see you.
I remember your touch.
I remember your taste,
the honeyed kiss of your lip,
of your skin
I drink in the sweetness that is you.

The blinds clank against the window and I am startled to a dazed wake.
I rub the last look of you from my eye and swallow the last of your taste…

Again just a dream,

how I wish I might sleep forever….
AC Brooks Oct 2011
you realize
you are alone

snow falls in the sun
water runs backwards
and not all that is love is true

the moon’s dance on the mountain
is as beautiful as we have seen
but as such
we don’t believe

the biggest brown, green and blue eyes
still dance with whoever is next

the softest touch
how we wait for the touch
is still just touch

this whiskey dance
this drunken salvation

You realize
You are alone
AC Brooks Oct 2011
As I pull the blade through me
my own clutched hair in hand
life, blood and breath move from me
to weak I cannot stand
not a care I have for you
the mirror speaks so grand
to laugh now I hear you
so far a beastly band
your love I hold before me
in this cold now dying hand
cold steel is my fortune
loves toll takes me from this land
AC Brooks Jul 2011
I am as I have been taught.
I want, I crave, I desire.

I am your son your daughter, your late night pink pants with feathers and bonds

This side ways dance, this exasperating prance
This to late for TV glance

What now?
Shaven, cleansed brushed of thought of sight

Taken of these, every day fixes

Am I now not fixed?

Do I not sing the song of your loves true loves lust?

Oh the horror, the thought the predawn hard

Take this and make it yours
This love this is me my love…my fix

Dance in this dark with my new every day fix.
Dance in this my everyday dark.

Selfish you, yours,

Oh this
this is
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