and start
my days
to you.

and I stole a kiss;

for there is no truer poetry
than the one made with our meeting lips.

But all I want

Is to make another memory

with you.

I thought your smile
was a fence;
and so,
I tried to climb it.


Now my legs ache,
and my hands drip red
from the cuts of the attempt.

What hurts the most
is realizing that I --
standing behind a velvet rope --
have been left dumbfound, staring
at art
I simply will never understand.

With a defeated sigh
you fell back on the grass
and I followed, as I always did,
with my eyes fixed on your lips.

If you had asked me for a solution
I could not have given you one.
All I simply wanted
was to silence your
worrying lips
with a kiss.

You said that your eyes
were fixed on the horizon
as your hands quietly
slipped from my grasp.

Today,
and possibly for a while,
my eyes will be fixed
on the ground.

...I answer

"I think the lines
on my forehead
must have been
paved by your
farewells."

You trace
your fingers
on what
you promise
is the
last one;
I close my eyes and try to engrave on my mind
this beautiful moment,
knowing it won't be so and thinking they are worth it.

I'll take off the shoes
that brought me to you.

That I can promise.

But please, don't ask me
to wash away the smudge
made when yours stepped
on mine.

I sometimes wish
to be The Undertaker,
so I could Tombstone Piledrive
you into my heart.

and with eyes closed
we jumped;
although the ground
did eventually find us,
for that one second of uncertainty
all that ever was:

You and I

Between
your morning coffee
and
my chocolate milk:

our hands meet on the sugar cube.

I wish I had another nose;
that would remind my mouth
to tell my eyes not
to show my ears how
to hear my mind.

So that I,
upon walking
pass the room
that was once yours,
would not get a *****.

Our love lies not
In the ripples of water;
It is the drops of rain
That cause them.

Our love lies not
In the lightning strike;
It is the clashing
Of dark clouds.

Our love lies not
In the gusts of wind;
It is the meeting
Of our sighing lips.

Our love lies not
In our kiss;
It is the knowing
Smiles.

I seem to have forgotten
the face you made
when I left.

Could it be - that it was
like the last page
of a wonderful book?

Or was it more
like the last leaf clinging
to a withered tree.

Perhaps it was
like the tapped flower,
left behind by a sated bee.


To know this
would make all the difference
to me.

As we crossed
The busiest of streets,
You leaned close to me;
And through the blaring horns of
the morning traffic whispered
sweet truths.

I smiled.

I'll give to you
what little dreams I have.

Maybe then
they'll seem a bit grander.

but your smile is a fence
and I know it would hurt
                            
                                       That is not what stops me