Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again

Over and over again it happens:
Work piling up into massive
vertical structures, threatening to
topple over and smother me.
You'd think I'd have learned by now,
but I have not.

they can say
opposites attract
but they don't
ever say what happens
when they meet.

we're bleach and
black clothes
and we leave each other
stained and pink and raw
and neither is the same
when it's over

one can't forget the other.

i'm bleach because
i can crackle your throat
i can sizzle your tongue
until it snaps repeatedly
words you'll never mean
and i can make you bleed
internally

you're black clothes because
you mask others because
you want the spotlight
and i can ruin that with a drop
and i relish that thought

they can say
opposites attract,
but they never
can say what happens
because you and i
are the definition
and we know it all too well

Let me warn you, my love, that when I fall, I fall very hard.
The first few months there are absolutely zero moments you are not on my mind, voice a soft whispering phantasm in your absence, drunk on whatever I sipped in your soul.
For awhile I become obsessed whether I like it or not.. and let me tell you, I like it as often as not.. but it's not a weird, psychotic obsession. It's an obsession in the sense that an absence of contact for as little as 2 days can feel like 3 weeks all warped together in a slow reality drifting sadly down a stream of redundant repeats of my least favourite New Years Eve paid programming.

I woke up last night at 3 AM imagining that I may not talk to you at all until you're back next Monday, and I'll be completely honest and admit that I cried a little. I shut myself up like a dog yelping for its owner to come home from work, but my heart still ached, and that, I'll admit, embarrassed me. I'm not sure if I can see you doing the same.

Let me warn you, my love, that I am afraid of commitment just as much as I am afraid not to commit. You really do seem worth the time and effort, but whether I like it or not there will be times when I cry into your shoulder and say my love for you is too comfortable. To be honest, my greatest fear at this point is hurting you. I trust myself enough to avoid it, but if I ever become distant or strange, please tell me. Please ask me. We will fix it. I promise.

Now let me tell you that I will never cheat on you. Not even drunk out of my mind could I bring myself to do it. I know how it feels and it's destruction. Eventually I will be so in love with you every other face will glaze over. I will be able to recognize beautiful faces and beautiful minds, but yours will be my dream come true.

I don't doubt you miss me less than I miss you. You're engaged in a brand new world down south, one filled with sky-blue water like dreams and tropic posters, horses on majestic beaches of gold grain.
I'm still carrying out the same motions on the same streets under the same rainy weather. It makes sense that I miss you more.

Let me warn you, my love, that writing pages as honest as these make me wonder if I terrify you in intention. Of course I'm not sure, who could be? All I know is I love you very much and that entails much in the way of future togetherness. Sorry if I am scaring you out of your emotional wits. All of this isn't easy to admit, but it's how I really truly honestly feel.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. I think distance makes the heart aware of what it hadn't had time to articulate. Hadn't had time to admit.

Most of the time I philosophize on life. Although love is a part of life, I find this distance has me philosophizing less and loving you more.

You'll be back soon.
Soon just isn't soon enough for the heart that wants to hold your hand.