I will kiss you anywhere and everywhere.

I will kiss you after your morning shower,
when your lips are warm and damp.

I will kiss you in a crowd,
behind your ear.

I will kiss you alone,
paying close attention to your safe, safe hands
and your short, square fingers.

I will kiss you at night,
on the small of you back
when it peeks from beneath your shirt
as you reach to turn off the bedside lamp.

I will kiss you in a storm.
Lightening and all.

I will kiss you when the raindrops become puddles,
and when the puddles become a flood.

And while the flood sweeps us away,
I will kiss you in the space
between the cresents of the waves.

I wish you were here with me.
Your arm around my shoulder,
fingertips tracing nonsense
across my skin.
My head on your chest,
knowing that the monsters
dreamt by the moving pictures
could not possibly reach us
because we have created
a fortress of oblivion
within the confines
of the blankets keeping us warm.

Keeping us together.

I was a fool .
I was a fool
to have thought
I could have
wanted anything
other than this.
Anyone,
other than
you.

This night is you.
Radiant.

Your eyes,
under this moon
and these stars,
brighter
than the sun
on its warmest day.

This night is us.

Our fingers
intertwined
tell the moon a story
of how to fill
the empty space between.

This night is me.

My heart pounding
as all the little stars
gather together
in my stomach
while you run your fingers
down my arm.

Time continues,
but we are here,
now,

Effulgent

shining brilliantly forth
into our night.

Distance is a funny thing, isn't it?
You're there.
I'm here.

I can pace,
and pace,
and I can gather miles in my soles
pacing these halls,
             these stairs,
             these empty rooms.

But my footsteps
can only burn holes
in ***** carpet.

They can not
carry me
to you.

the cool fire
burning in those
blue eyes
is all consuming,
setting aflame
everything in which
you cast your
gaze upon.

Surrounding me, dying souls.
Infested souls.
Sunken souls.
Souls that are drifting, floating.
Souls trapped by the grip of the enemy.
Innocent, handcrafted souls.

They're coming home.

I'm being suffocated by the weight of this mad, mad world.
I am weeping, adding salt and water to the flood of my children returning from the battle raging beneath my Heavenly sanctuary.

All because of a declaration.
An act of malice guiding unfit soldiers into the strangling hands of war.

Souls that never had a chance to live out the lives I set before them,
now stand before me.

The only thing I can say to their questioning eyes is this:

beauty is born from destruction. styles and rhythms and words will emerge from these malevolent years.

Lives that were stolen by signatures
and trenches
and gas
and bacteria ridden bugs
and all things not made by my gentle hands,
Will be replaced by a stronger Lost Generation,
Who will turn this world, page by page, nearer to the world I intended for my children.