You
my love

are eight days
and a flight away .

Feelings and their mysteries
a lover in mind

I remember the stories you told me
of your adventures and possibilities
I remember falling in love
with every single memory of us

je suis ici
where are you now ?

I want to be in the poetry I have never written
to live the life I had never dreamed

I travel in hopes of bumping into you again
for that's how we met
by fate and crossroads
in the wild we never waited

je suis ici
where are you now ?

The world we have yet to see
Our world we have yet to create

You climbed as I swam below
together naturally
but still going farther our own ways
our movements rippled to the other

je suis ici
where are you now ?

our stones skip four times
for every time we met

We promised each other we'd venture again
hand in hand and to share a tent
we'll meet to hike the mountains
for a date behind the waterfall

*je vais être ici finalement avec toi

upstairs  

      with

             a                    

                        3am craving for some shisha smoke

                                         the lemon lime and melon mint
                                  
                         ­                                         to share a double apple

                                                          ­                        and mix it with that cinnamon

                                                               ­                                   to be not quite faded

                                                               ­                                         only relaxed enlightened

                                                    ­                                                to not lose the experience
                                                      ­                                              
                                                                ­                               remembering the faces

                                                          ­                                at a later time still
                                                           ­             
                                                   ­                                 the laughs and inside jokes

                                                          ­                   in midst the growing cloud

                                                          ­                           of flavorful smoke

                                                                ­                            we sit smile breathe

these ruffled sheets don't feel like mine .
not quite the smell of my laundry scents either ,
but familiar , like the body pressed against me hours before .
and now again

I was afraid of opening my eyes until I heard his voice
The same soft whisper that came from behind ,
the whisper that drowned out all the other voices in that busy pool hall

I was down by two ***** ,
I was stripes he was solid
it was my game but that he didn't know .

I had been kicked out ,
they called me orphaned , homeless
but that he didn't know , or so I thought
until he whispered against my neck
"if you win I'll take you home"

so we played
I played the way my brother had taught me
learning him as I go , to have him against me
from behind , his rough hands over mine .
I could barely see my fingers , as he guided them
under and over the stick , until we sank a perfect shot .
And I did end up winning , but only because I played it well ,
a hustler they called me , but that he didn't know

He took me home and we laid together ,
the game was over when the eight ball fell in .
Now we both knew how this would go
and go it went until I came over and over again
and he touched upon me again and again
until he came as I did
and we fell to rest
our breathing still synced together
as the rise and fall

and I opened my eyes
this time to the whisper of
a sleepy "hey beautiful"
and those hands gently through my hair

this may not be my bed
but this is my place .
He knows me now

echoing through the dark sky from miles away
the sound of fireworks
and you said let's just close our eyes and listen
and I knew you saw the sparks just as I did
I wonder if you felt them
as we laid together in bed and talked
mental ********
I listen to the echo of your voice in my head
it doesn't want to end
the last look I caught in your eyes
before I fell asleep against you the night before
told me as much
and we lay here now
your arm on my waist
as if making sure I would still be by your side
when you wake up
is it weird wanting to touch your lips
while your soft breath passes steadily through them
or the suddenly heightened desire
to have your body pressed against mine
with your hands in all the right places
I question whether or not this is all going to stay
being so real
because I'm here writing in the dark
to the voice of Thom Yorke
and the sound of the fireworks I can't see
and when all that goes away