it is the color of a misty morning,
when the world is silent and
the dawn has yet to blot the last stars out of the sky.
it is the feeling of frost on your windowsill
but warmth in your bed.
you shut your eyes,
determined to keep the imminent sun at bay.

it is the color of dreams chased away
but consciousness yet to be attained.
of time standing still,
of a breath waiting to be exhaled.

this color is
calmness
contentment
quiet.
the shade of a prayer before bed and
a sigh upon waking;

the shade of peace.

adversely,
it is also the color of the clutches of loneliness,
of the weight of sadness.
it is the color of somebody's world crumbling apart
but with nobody to bear witness to their silent pain.

this color is one of falling, of screaming, of drowning--
but with nowhere to land
and no one to hear
and nothing to hold.

this color often associates with death.

it is the color of lips and veins
when the heart stops beating;
the color or cold and
the color of tears.

but always remember
that it is above all the color of beginning.
of the sea
and sky
and eternity.

it is an infinite color.

it is not the color of goodbye.

Something happened this morning
when I awoke to you lightly breathing.
It was sublime.
My chin rested on your shoulder
the skin so soft on my cheek.
I couldn’t help but kiss the sweetness.

On nights when I sleep alone
it does not matter how many blankets
wrap my restless body.
I wake cold.
Nothing is as warm as your arms.
Like that of a Texas breeze
on an August night.

I can only think to kiss
your unshaven face.  
The kisses are planted gently,
first your cheek,
then your temple,
and your forehead,
when I come to the tip of your nose
you stir slightly,
but I cannot stop.
I want it more then
the ocean waves need
the shoreline to crash upon.

Looking at your face
I smile at the odd way we met.
With a breath of *** and an intoxicated
grin we spoke.
“I don’t like you”
“Yea? Well I don’t like you first!”
Like children picking
on their first crush.
Tying to fight back the giggles.
Our childish ways still
run strong.

In your absence I sit
and watch the ticking minutes
laugh at my uneasiness.
Hours with others
are mere minutes with you.
The clocks envy
our cherished time
and tick-tock more rapidly
when we are alone.
All our time
would never be
enough.

When we get lost in each other,
the way the lonely roadrunner
looses himself as he runs
up and down
the oak covered hills,
it is love at its best.

This morning
when the soft breathes
you took woke me
and my chin rested upon
your shoulder,
something happened.
As the kisses fell
and your eyes continued to sleep;
I realized that this
is where I belong.
Drifting slowly  
into love with you.