I became aware of your asymmetrical lips
that sunk beneath me like a mountain range,
crowded like a sea of individuals,
in fields of those who’ve
heard of other wicked things.
I met you over a crowd of tables,
of which people talk rhythmically.
beneath your pulse,
with strangers who eat,
till the moon’s light glow,
people who’ve danced with the tides of work,
and me who believed,
the whole world was looking to get drowned.
Back in that tiny motel room,
with picture frames stacked up like trees,
sighs small enough to occupy pockets,
and a curtain swaying to the motion,
of your rhythmic pulse.
I looked over to you,
with half-filled eyes,
that’s when I knew I wanted,
to make it through with you.
I became aware of your feathered-like voice,
which held my words together,
like a thin blue flame,
and I imagine you in Heaven
above the flame,
where God keeps skeletons.
in a cold dark room,
but back down in that tiny motel room
you’re walking on water,
and making my world in seven days.
where lonely hearts and raindrops go,
I can see you wandering through my empty shelves,
occupying the space and making it a home,
a temple where my heart was destined to go.
Days are nights,
and the nights are long,
with your rhythmic pulse pressed,
up against my shuttering glow,
and I swear I’m looking into the clear blue sky,
your gaze so high,
it might as well be considered divine.
I can hear myself howling at your past,
hearing those exes you’ve touched,
bringing justice to their demons
like
it’s the joy of the Lord.
It’s here where I swear I’ve found,
a balance between a hell and a heaven,
where I wish I could lie,
where caesar begs for mercy,
where men can peacefully cry,
with the roses you threw on the stage,
and in darkness,
I look for your shimmering glow.
As though needing faith when it’s so hard to find,
like a good tragedy written like sonnets,
this whole thing is headed
towards your majestic heartbeat.
I can feel your hips and the bed spring breaking
at night where we make plans,
and find streets named after memories that could almost exist,
like forbidden fruits in Eden,
and the love we’ll make,
like lithium dreams,
peaceful with prayers,
filled with homes and addresses we’ll someday share,
our wedding and wine as bright as the future,
descending like the suffering and verbs you’ve put to sleep,
or the world you made in seven days.
I’ve woken up beneath a clear blue sky,
where houses shout and there’s the breeze from your gentle sigh
and the suffering and sadness that I once knew,
are now wrapped up in your heartbeat,
and I can hear you laughing as vividly as the day we met,
the raw smell of your skin,
and the scent between your legs,
the rush I feel with the proximity of our hearts,
coming together as though,
they were never apart,
and the Angels can sing everywhere,
among our midst and wonder what it was
that I’ve been looking for above.
That tiny motel room is so big,
there’s no reason to look up,
for I stopped looking
for thin blue flames,
because you’re the one
that I’ve been looking for.
Happy Monthsary, Baby. I know this isn't much but this is my feeble attempt at trying to describe how I met you and everything after that. Words aren't enough to describe it and you know that. This is probably the longest poem I wrote, and by the metaphors I thought that would suit you, I outdid myself on this one. I love you so much. Always in all ways.