If you could hear me, there are things I could tell you:

like my dreams,
I was a branch and you were a bird
and you built your nest and I gave you a home, and
I was the bird and you were the worm and you wiggled
beneath my lips and you nourished my body, and
I became the worm and you were the dirt and
I gave you warmth and guidance and quenched
your thirst and then I was the dirt and you were
a child and you shaped me into pies squished
between your chubby fingers and I rested on
your cheeks until I became the child and you became
my pet and we danced in the rain and chased after
the birds and you snuggled up to me next to a fire
and we slept, and I became the pet and you were
my owner and you fed me and gave me affection
because I was loyal and then I became the owner
and you became my love and we found ourselves
in between clean sheets, damp with sweat and
stripped naked and satisfied and the sun began
to peak through our blinds and you became
the sun and I turned into the moon and we’ll
be immortalized day and night and you’ll fall
in love with me every moment and I didn’t want
to find myself in reality again, but when I woke
I realized you were still there, kept in my heart
and for now, that’s all I need until I want more
and more comes with the future and the future
will be our adventure—if you were listening,
I would tell you all this so you could understand
that I’m waiting: you’re my bird and I’m your branch.

Do You…

miss the way;
I look into you eyes
the way my fingers explore your skin
the ear that listened
how in me you had no fear
the tender moments
the kiss, soft and gentle
teasing your lips
holding hands in public
doors that open
a gentlemen
dances in the rain
peanut butter nutella
meals prepared by me
how i brushed your hair
going down above your knees
laughter that broke silence
cuddling the recharge we need
pictures of our adventures
photos ****** shared
walking around the home
nothing but underwear
traveling together, many places
making love by moonlight
wishing on that star one night
looking into the mirror
as the story unfolds
dreams and promises and wishes
forever these we hold

… and then you awake…
could this be…
the one man of whom you dream?

… then I awake…
holding my pillow…
I realized…

I was the one who was dreaming

It is time for poetry to be recognized as a divine gift and the poet as the messenger of Divinity.

As pained as we may be physically there is no greater hurt than a poet living in a poemless age

Each realized desire only grows a new desire.
Fulfillment can never make you happy because desire is endless and fulfillment is limited.
There will always be the next want or desire making you unhappy.
Therefore, the wisdom of poets who transform desire into beauty.

I recently saw something I wrote published in Poets online under the name Pamela Hope. Does anyone know anything about this person, or did I mistakenly write a famous older expression into my work? I don't recall that, and this is why I am reluctant to post any of my better efforts anywhere but in a published book.