Being with you
Means I don't have to imagine
What it would be like
And I can just be.
Being with you
Means I don't have to worry about
What you really think,
When to time my words,
Or if you'd kiss me.
I know that
You will tell me what you can,
My words can tumble without stopper,
And we won't touch.
My wild imagination must be tamed
Or it will plumb the deepest depths
And climb to treacherous precipices.
Being with you
Quiets this beast.
Being with you
Is always better, brighter, and steadier
Than I imagine.

As Baudelaire said:
"Be always drunk,
on wine, poetry, virtue"
or what-have-you.
And after sobering
from aurelian dawns
and whiskey-drenched stars,
I find solace in tipsiness
on irreverent magic eyes
from the bottom of a margarita
or a paint-stained enigma
from behind a glass of red.
Slowly, carefully, languidly,
Quietly.
Flirting with possibilities
of being drunk once more.

1. you may feel that your feelings are illogical.  you may feel stupid for even having them in the first place.  don’t.  you have every right to every feeling you are feeling.
2. getting the feelings to go away will be difficult.  the more you think about how you wish you didn’t have them, the longer you will.  it’s okay.  you’ll move on eventually.
3. you may have thought they were perfect, the only one for you.  that will fade.  soon you’ll find the real one who will be everything you thought they were and more.
4. breathe.
5. remember that in a few years, they’ll just be someone you used to know.
6. silently watching them with someone else will eat you up.  it will hurt more than anything.  you’ll feel alone and overdramatic for feeling so much for them.  in these times especially you need to do all you can to get them out of your mind.  i know it’s hard.  find an outlet; surround yourself with friends; indulge in reading or running or whatever you like to do.  focus on yourself and not them.
7. breathe.
8. breathe.
9. breathe.
10. you know deep inside that they are just a tiny corner of the big picture.  everything will be okay.  tell yourself that every day.

this is a reminder. sweet one,
your heart does not beat too loudly in your chest.
does not take up too much space,
does not mistake the moonlight for a streetlamp
when you hold your lover's hand
soft and intertwined
drunk and kissing your way home.
this is a reminder.
your heart is not a machine, is not
a second-class citizen, is not
the color of a bullet hole, a gunshot wound
against a rainbow flag;
this is a reminder. sweet one,
your heart is too big for your body
too tremendous to be
encapsulated within two arms and two legs and
ten fingers and ten toes and
when you kiss, sweet,
carry your hurt like the orange lillies
in front of my childhood home
planted by my mother and
the way she gave more
than she could give. give.
this is a reminder:
the only time
your heart should feel too loud in your chest
is when your fingers are finding her's
or his, or their's,
intoxicated by that moonlight,
a will to live against every clenched fist
finding harmony in disharmony
finding your way
to your orange lillies.

They say that love is between a man and a woman.
That the racing hearts and soft whispers are to be between that of a man and a woman.
Yet when I look at her, my heart races and my mind fogs.
They say it is wrong to love that of the same ***.
That the soft touches and moans of pleasure should be shared between a woman and a man.
But when her mouth meets mine and my hands find her hair, I can't help but think that they are the ones that are wrong, not this.
Because this,
Her mouth on mine,
Our bodies flush against each other,
The look in her eyes,
Is love.
The soft whispered words and racing hearts is now something that both she and I share.
And when her body slots perfectly with mine
And her eyes show that there is nowhere else she would rather be,
I know that this is love.
The way my breath hitches
And my heart races
And her soft gaze is all I can seem to focus on,
I know that this is love.
And if this is what love is,
If this is what it really feels like,
It will never be wrong.
This is love.