fingers creep around your hips
clamping skeleton through skin
your stomach concave,
i rest my head there to listen.

you breathe deeply and out a shudder
directing my hands from your hip
and around your arched spine, now rise.
your exhales leave marks on the walls- our spies.

let them hear in gasps and oh's
our wordless recounts of smile & woe,
let them wish for eyes to peak,
our limbs speaking between sheets.

they will suppress mounting urges that could not hold,
blank faces will cover stories
from one lover to another
in a distressed ****** smother.

the abrupt confusion of people
when confronted by unconditional kindness
is addictively amusing and,
quite the damper.

how tragic we are,
capable of selfless service
meeting it only with suspicion and,
disbelief.

in the residing calm upon every storm,
rainwater quietly turns to vapour.
the sun breathes its warmth and clouds form,
conjuring new rain to drench the Earth in vigour.

and so alike...

my being is drenched in memories of thee
at night they rise above me watching me seep.
they play stories of a new you mixed with me,
reciting a cycle of life that i wish very much to keep.

if i could be given a choice,
i would withstand your downpour everyday until dawn
if only i could drift off as vapour to your voice
gaining warmth from echoes of your sweet yawn.

At each calm after storm…

Rainwater turns to vapour in no particular order,
Mixing moisture, forming cloud, to wash the earth in new vigour.

And so alike,

My mind drinks the memories reined by thee,
And at night they turn to dream clouds atop my sleep,
Watching, that I rise each morning a new you mixed with me.

I shower myself each and every day until next to dawn
Then lay by you turning vapour to your soft speech and yawns.

I stare intently into the moon at night,
The only being that keeps you near,
I whisper gently so my words take flight,
And nestle carefully around its ear.

I ask it to show you what I had been,
To the almost nothing I became,
To show you the halfling others have seen,
Roaming the dark whispering your name.

I complete my prayer every night,
By asking the moon to let you know,
I miss you dearly but I'll be alright,
Distance is but room for love to grow.

I pray the moon lend its ear,
To my late tales and lament,
May it shine bold and clear,
When your return is imminent.

In taming fire,
Tongues often burn.
Fire cannot be,
Unless it takes in return.

Time ticks and tocks at the pulse of your heart,
Its thumps govern what is day when night to start.

I find it fine that peace no more my own, is ground in rhyme with your pace,
My wilting breath still willing to stir if your clock shall plunge into a race.

As tenant to your love,
I heed whispers from above...

Each cycle, your blood echoes troubled wails trailing from your mind,
Rest m'lady, I am bound to you, such that any distress you face shall now be mine.

If lacking warmth, then one find fire,
If dreaming of sleep, then one retire.

If my eyes seek another's gaze to pursue,
Then life has ruled my search is for you.

it is no coincidence
that dying is to studying
as backward love is to revolution

it is in small paradoxes
that life calls to us from a distance
like trickling rivulets of a raging ocean
whose sound is truly realized when one peers over its cliff...

loud and unyielding, it cannot be studied in parts for its current wears on as if invisible to parched eyes all too lost it its roars of rapids or raptly intent on sitting still in meditation

and at height, away, we stand
our ears perked toward the truth
gentle mist settling like stars against our faces and hair
whispering

that life is jumping off a cliff and it will always move on

You have reason to be a non-believer, you have reason to not care.
You've had people take you to the ends of love and leave you right there.

It is in bold pursuit of what is rare,
That a journey would seem most unfair,

Paved in stories of despair-
A path extending nowhere.

If affection was a dragon you've cautiously approached its lair,
Watched it in slumber & patiently lain your snare.

You have woken it accidentally to be caught in a merciless glare,
And avoided scorching burn as its wide nostrils would flare.

To move forward in such hunt no girl should dare,
Triumph in love needs a woman to tame beast as she would oft tame her hair.

Many a man searching for love remain rooted to chair,
But with boundless confidence you seek the Heart's Throne as its heir.

And no matter how thick a robe its crown shall wear,
Abreast your fierce aura even dragon hide will tear.

It is along my own story that I find yours and wish to share,
A tale of two beings in forced singularity but thinking in pair.

...A lost soul hears the approach of another as it disturbs his air,
Burning his eyes, a mother of dragons seeks love & climbs her final stair.

A body that sends chills through my own,
At a distance you are no taller than I.
Deep blue and crystal white make your tone
Luring the attention of those passing by.

Little is known about your crumbling anger,
That your tears pour in sheets of ice,
There are few who would slave and hunger,
For to claim you asks too tall a price.

Your lows tower above our highest highs,
Your peaks leave heads in the clouds.
People meet their ends or lose their minds,
By simply trying to figure you out.

Mother always said,

"Love, when found, is like a mountain.
Timid and striking from far it will draw you in.

Climbing endlessly it would seem,
You will enjoy many jousts with Love.
It will thin the line between reality and dream,
And show you perspective from above.

Each story with Love
Is a scroll to be unfurled,
Brave the journey son,
And you'll be left atop of the world."

Fields bloom at the same time every season,
In the same colours standing no taller than before,
We anticipate their return from winter vacation,
To only watch them blossom then leave them for bore.

Our knotted spines are but nimble stems,
Bent over willingly at the slightest breeze,
With eyes only for chests filled of gems,
We dismiss the beauty of one as a tease.

Fields bloom at the same time every season,
And each season is not quite like before,
Taking the time to admire each blossom,
Turns every field into a world to explore.

Young, slender, soft and small,
Twigs stretching from thy palm,
Rings of shining dew at morning’s call
Clashing beautifully against my arm.

An ode to the thin spindles of affection
Tightly tangling around my heart’s string,
Sharply strummed with sleepy, dainty precision
Playing a song that only dreams could once sing.

A medley of feelings: peaking elation
And troughs deep enough for hot brews,
Between branches and amidst conversation
It seems my mind and heart can find truce.

It is said flowers that bloom tears to eye
Should be left to grow as beauty unpicked,
I must agree to admire and assure I am nearby,
To offer my service to such that has me rooted, fixed.

"I've wilted missing this lady. A tiresome thing."
Said a mind full of strength worn out like a broken king.

Exists no preoccupation so large it could sling,
Shut, over the sweeping love she so often brings.

All sounds are heard in echo of her voice and what it sings,
Soothing me such that my shoulders droop like folded wings.

I'm half an adventurous soul kept at bay in wait of his ying,
A yan in wait, a bud that shall bloom, when arrives its light of Spring.

Before bed I whispered to myself the story...
Of the first time we shared, "I love you's."

I lay awake that night, I'm sorry,
Like a child who got new shoes.

Keeping this pair clean was really no worry,
Despite the many uses they'd accrue.

For each time I slipped into an I love you,
I walked away feeling more new.

Wake up
So that I can miss you and you will know.
Wake up
That you can rise gently as morning's glow.
Wake up
To the chatter of our window with winter's blow.
Wake up
As if the time we were late to an evening horror show.
Stay awake,
And we may return to keep company on my pillow.
Just wake already!
The world without you is quickly becoming slow;
Things we wrote on our arms to do as they grow old.
Let's walk, and talk of stories heard now by my shadow.
I've a larger stone than what you're hidden below
I'll bring it with... we'll have breakfast tomorrow.


Wake up, okay?
So that I can miss you and you will know.