She is All.

She's all that I think about.
I am consumed by thoughts of her
every hour,
every minute,
every second.

I remember the night.

The night where the clouds and the sky enveloped us like a quilt as I laid down next to her.

In this one moment, my entire body was acutely aware of one thing and one thing only - her lying right beside me.

The touch of her arm next to mine raised goosebumps on my flesh,
the scent of her hair intoxicated me,
the melody of her laughter washed over me like the surf of a beach.

She was lying there, right next to me.

We made fun of the clouds and laughed at the shapes they mimicked, we watched the sky as lightning put on a show for us.

It was a dream, it must have been. Nothing this wondrous and beautiful could exist in this reality.
I should wake, but I feared this euphoric dream would end.

But under our quilt of sky and clouds, and between our bodies,
I found the one thing that proved to me it wasn't a dream.

It was real, and it is beautiful.

Her hand in mine.

Delicate yet tight in embrace,
I held onto her hands.
It was a link,
a connection,
a bond
that will forever bind us across moments
that will surely be as resplendent as this.

My body next to hers, her hand in mine.

Everything is complete.

I move towards you,
But you evade.
Like a rainbow.

There is no you,
Just an idea.
A unicorn.

The slow flash of blue
On a touch screen
That indicates

There's nothing
More to scroll
To.

She leaned against a telephone pole
grounded in searing concrete. Her white
dress blew in the balmy breeze like
balcony curtains. Her Merlot lips
and azure lashes popped against
her skin. She wore a citrus perfume
to garnish every hip swing and shoulder
roll with a tropical accent. Like a tambourine,
the silver bangles chimed on her left wrist
with every footstep.
Her heels sunk in the veiny tar patches
that criss-crossed each parking space
several times over.

Love is like an ice cube.
We hold onto it until
it gets too cold. Lucky
for us, I made room
in the freezer beside
TV dinners and a miniature
us holding hands atop
a slice of wedding cake.

I remember that one night,
Your hands were so cold.
And all through the night,
They were mine to hold.

Our arms wrapped each other
While the blankets wrapped us,
It was you and me,
And no one else.

The TV was off,
The room was dimmed.
The candles shined bright,
Shadows bounced off the trim.

I stared into your eyes,
For what was nearly two hours.
I was lost in their beauty
Like I was staring at flowers.

That night I said I love you,
And a smile filled your face.
It was the first time I ever said it,
I just couldn’t wait.

That night was very special,
Because I spent it with you.
How much I miss those nights,
You have no clue.

I’d make a deal with the devil,
Just to get those nights back.
You and I belong together,
Opposites do attract.

Johnny Cash is great
I shot a man in Reno
Cant beat that **** right?

I was sitting at the computer
trying to think of a way
to describe a woman's
*** as anything other
than a woman's ***
and there were
marlboro black
cigarettes on my
creaking desk
and I had a fifth
of whiskey on the
windowsill and
I rubbed my forehead
and thought of fruits--
apples and oranges--
no, no that's overdone
and I thought of animals--
elephants and horses--
but, again, no, I'd
come across as one of
those sick ******* that
go to the zoo in  
stained trench coats
and rub themselves against
the chain link
and Eve would walk in
beautiful girl with short
hair and a sharp mind
she'd ask what I was
writing about and
I'd say women
but the women were
never her, she pointed out
and I'd say I don't want to
jinx this, what we have,
you know? and she'd say okay,
okay

I'd get lit up every evening and
I'd text other women
I'd tell them about the shapes
of their ***** and the sizes
of their brains and they'd
usually say uh huh yeah
but I was fishing, always
fishing for that compliment
that sliver of hope, that
unsatisfied wife
when you're trying to be
Bukowski you'll throw
yourself under the bus
again
and
again
for what?
a story, trivial and base,
and that good woman,
that best woman, that Eve,
one day while making breakfast
she'll say to the eggs in the skillet
I can't take this **** anymore
and you'll say so don't
and she'll say fine
and she'll walk out the front door
wearing your t-shirt
you'll feel free for a week
and alone for two years.