I feel the static in the air tonight
It's all around us and it feels so right with you.
I know you feel it too.
I feel the lust running through my veins
I need your touch before I go insane,
It's true.
I hope you feel it too..
If you were a bottle with a broken top,
I'd still drink down every drop.

Loving you is like barbed wire.
It's like I'm standing in a white hot fire.
Like running through a nightmare
Or standing in a lightning storm.
I can't describe it.
It's like electric love.
I cant deny it.
You're so electric love.

Well something happens when you touch my face.
Some kind of magic I don't understand it's true.
I know you feel it too.
Well if you were a poison you would taste so sweet.
So pour a shot glass out for me.

Loving you is like barbed wire.
It's like I'm standing in a white hot fire.
Like running through a nightmare
Or standing in a lightning storm.
I can't describe it.
It's like electric love.
I can't deny it.
You're so electric love.

Paint for me a dream
Colored in hues of emotion
Steeped in love
And dusted in music

just because I love you
well it don't mean I won't leave you

aw ****, what's life without love?

Hopefully you'll see me
someday
shortly

I know you can see the red light in the stars
Are you breathing finally?
with Faith, you'll see
all I can do is keep you in love with me
Relax with me, you'll see

I am the downpour that makes your petals bloom
I will fight till the fall for you



from the patient soil we will see
the king blossom with his seed

I cannot even draw a straight line
My masterpiece is a doodle stick man
My drawing of a heart doesn't look like one
But I'd want to show you the visions that I have

I'd like to sketch a portrait of you
Like Jack on Titanic would do
Or paint a thousand sunsets
Like what Michael learnt to do

I'd like to draw those sceneries we see
Or that image of your back as you sleep
The image of our hands intertwined
Paint the colors you gave my life when it was black and white

But I cannot draw..

I've been jealous of those who can
Express their love through drawing or painting
But I cannot draw
What my eyes saw

I cannot draw
Those comic strips
With our love story in it
I just have no talent in this field

I cannot draw
So the least I can do is write
Draw words from my soul and rhyme
Paint words to rhyme
Sketch stories into words and color them to rhyme

I cannot draw
But I can write

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless ***. I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.

But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.

My wife, a psychiatrist, sleeps
through my reading and writing in bed,
the half-whispered lines,
manuscripts piled between us,

but in the deep part of night
when her beeper sounds
she bolts awake to return the page
of a patient afraid he'll **** himself.

She sits in her robe in the kitchen,
listening to the anguished voice
on the phone. She becomes
the vessel that contains his fear,

someone he can trust to tell
things I would tell to a poem.

beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display

Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then
The little drops of anguish will all run together,
The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
Into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
On the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
Into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for
A second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll
Have gone so far I'll wander mazily
Over all the earth, asking, will you
Come back? Will you leave me here, dying?