To amend all of my previous statements I have made
about love, a topic that I really have no knowledge of
I will attempt to be as frank and honest as possible.
Well, as honest as poetry can be.

I cannot promise you an eternity.

Not only would that be drastic, but also inconsiderate
as the days to come may be darker than the night sky
and who will know when our feelings may drift apart
Like little leaves in the wind.

Nor can I truly love you the same forever.

Because people change, our hearts grow and shrink
with new experiences, failures, and successes too.
I know this, for my heart swells at the passing air
Whenever I think of you.

So, instead of those meaningless cliches, I would rather ask for a pact.

For us to grasp hands lying under the sunshine
knowing that the storm is brewing on the horizon
and to brave it as best we can together, and only
When we cannot take it, we will let go.

There is a significant chance we won't make it to the end
and I know this, it haunts me every second I consider it
but now, and only now, I can safely tell you my love
To my heart's content.

I love you, without negative connotation,
and I fear, I worry, I brood over everything
Fear is an old friend of mine, an acquaintance
so I cannot forget, or atone, only amend my faults.

I have no eternities to promise, no delusions of grandeur
just the throbbing of my heart, the babbling of my mouth
and a love that grows with the passing of seconds
all laid bare on the tops of the hill, overlooking the storm.

I ask no romanticism, just one action: *Take my hand, take my heart, and take my soul, and together will we walk.

I felt an unusual twinge in my neck
as I turned toward you.

Heavy breathing signaled morning sleep
as my arm reached across your palpitating belly.

These casual cuddles, typical of the start of our day
emit a warmth unlike sunrays or furnace heat.

No use to wake you or tease apart your legs
for seldom do we play.

That may come after morning news is devoured,
bananas peeled and different morning hungers eased.  

Now i rise to consume small pellets of brown, pink,
grey and white chemicals compounded to keep me alive.

There is a stillness downstairs with greetings from a well-worn chair
contoured to support my soul.

Blades whirl overhead churning a breeze
my face accepts upon my forehead.

Now is my time of meditation, my attempt to
listen to whatever god pervades this universe.

There will be no answers, no jolts of insight or revelations,
only small particles of peace to cover my disquiet.

You will lumber down steps with effort accentuated by creaks
and moans that are more pronounced each day.

Our lips will touch confirming both obligation and willingness
to walk beside each other.

I wonder if you think there could be more?  
Could each gaze toward one another be longer?  

Could I unbutton myself enough to see or would you scold me
for such an unrepressed display?

Torn

Torn between a million places,
Their life always filled with too many faces,
Of loved one's lost and tears they create,
Of shattered dreams consumed by so much hate.

But hate is an extraordinarily powerful fuel
I thirst for more; I am never full.
I loved you once, I loved you twice,
If you'd let me, I'd love you thrice.

Left is Right

I had a dream of you with a ring; I had a dream in my dress.
I had a dream you left for good; you left everything a mess…

I had a dream about a hug, another about a tear,
I dreamed I saw your license plate, of how you left everything, so dear.

I had a dream about our baby, she wasn't even born.
In that dream I saw your face, why did it look so torn?

Was all that passion really just a dream? Was it not so real?
Was it just one of those instances, where I just “have to deal?”

I REALLY thought you’d never leave, that WE would always be.
Back then, my tears would’ve made a sea themselves as I cried myself to sleep.

But now I dream of lighter things...of things that aren't so blue.
Perhaps this means your left is right and this chapter of ours is through.

I may be a dreamer but…

How many times?
How many times does it take one to figure it out?

“It sure makes everything seem so small.”  
Is this love still the same, no matter the gall?

I may hate science and still adore chemistry;
I may loathe the story and still love this scene.
  
I may be lucid but you make me insane.
I’d bet you’d call me a liar if I said I could handle the pain.

The pain of opening my heart for you to come in.
The question of the moment: “Is this really love or just aggravation?”  
  
I may not know my path, I can’t follow a map.
But I have good intuition and this doesn’t seem like a trap.

I may be speechless but my words, they speak volumes.
Saying:
I miss you.
I love you.
I need you.
I want you.
I need you.
I love you.
I miss you.
I wish you…

Is it crazy to think that I can still yearn for you? Even when I’m with you?
Because the truth is, I’ll always miss you,
Even though you’ll always be right here.  
Just know when you say “only two weeks,” to me, it sounds like years.

He Said, She Said**

When they said: “Sometimes things just don’t work out,”
I just wanted to scream and shout,
Pull my hair and stomp the ground.
Maybe THIS would make your judgments sound.

Sound like ration, sound like real?
Sound like something I wanted to feel?
I don’t know what she said, they said,
He said, it said, you all said, someone led…

Led me on to really believe,
That all that passion wasn’t just your sleeve,
Where your heart was residin’
Livin’, breathin’, flyin’, ridin’.

“You’ll get nothing more from me,” you said,
“And if I call you one (dark) night,
Don’t bother to turn on the light,
I’ll regain control in a bit.”

“(‘Cause I’m the one with the better wit.)
And you’re just a girl who has to live with it.”

He opens his Star Wars: A New Hope lunch box
Inside a hippies dream.
**** in baggies that have the superman symbol
And Batman symbol on them
Tabs of LSD
And molly.
Hunter S. Thompson would have a field day

©Gambit '13

∑  nPk,   ∝ ≫ x! π f (x) ∞ x ≡ φ 3√a N(μ,σ2) <:)


In English:
The sum of the probabilities that your poem will trend is proportional, but greater than the factorial of the constant pi, when the function of x is leminscate (infinity), and when the value of the x variable is identical to the golden ratio constant, or when the cubed root of the normal distribution of love.

Finally,
finally
finds
you well.

It is the word you supply,
when asked
100 times a day

How are you?

How ya doing?

Answer:

Well,
I am well.

for my life, my poetry,
me, all of us,
are trending,
now that I have found,
found and solved,
the formula for
my-piece of the
Normal Distribution
of love