Early warmness
From the sunbeams.
Birds chirping and hornets
Annoyingly buzzing.
Morning dew
On the verdant green.
Wind rustling through
The naked tree branches,
Waiting for the burgeoning
That announce the beginning anew.

Please love me, although I have loved before.
Please know that even if
I have worshiped foreign hands,
Marveled at constellation eyes,
Shed tears for other minds and hearts
That tore from me some brutal, awesome love,
Know that nobody has ever made me feel safe
For any measurable length of time.
That not one of them ever stopped in the midst of kissing me to say
"You are just so beautiful."
The way you did, Lover,
2
3
4 times,
Just yesterday.
That all the flowers I ever gave them,
All the gifts and poems and artwork
All those things to show my love
Were tolerated
The way the sun is tolerated on a blistering summer day
Because to escape from it would be too difficult.
Know that I always knew that,
Felt it from them,
Felt shame for it.
And no matter how many photographs I have obsessively taken
Of a face I thought they must have molded the face of the sun after in every ancient carving,
Know that she never wanted me to see her.
And that that
COUNTS.
You looking up at me from those white sheets, Lover,
And never glancing away in embarrassment or apprehension
Counts:
Skin
Counts
To someone who has been held at arm's length for so many years.
Kisses count,
And I count them, every single one soothing the ache of the losses I never asked
To suffer.
It is true, you are not my first love.
But never have you pushed me away.
Never have you shut me down,
Never
Have you been cruel to me.
And all this
I find it counts
More than the awe I felt for those who would abuse me,
More than the fear and loss and devotion and destruction that they demanded
And then blamed me for the consequences of.
Although I have loved before,
Please, please, please love me now,
For that is something you can be
First at,
Lover.

Here we dilute ourselves into many
Things to stop our world
In the middle of its course:

Your skies are caught in dreams,
You bloom only flowers you recognize.
It hides the truth between
Your ears,
It hides the selfishness of your poetry,
The sighs of life in your grey solitude,
Your tongues are thirsting for something,
And you have become a pop cultural
Verse of repetition,
And the world will catch you
From behind your skies,
You can no longer hide in your abyss.
  
   And to state what I mean unpoetical,
   I see the hate rising in a tide,
   The world I know ignored in this forum
   Of intelligence, hate gaining tide.
   Of people ignoring the bigger picture,
   Where are you?
   I see nothing of the tsunami that
   Has overtaken the country here
   In this place where poetry and political
   Topics mesh more than you know,
   This is your voice,
   I implore you to change your flow.
   We live beneath this destiny,
    Beautiful Earth,
    But if we stop our words,
    Are our words even of worth?