you are

only just

the

icing

on a cake

already

baked.

To the bright-eyed girl who didn't understand a thing
Not because she didn't care,
But because she didn't need to

Instead of perfume,
her mother covered herself in whiskey.
Instead of cologne,
her dad wore *****.

And it wasn't a tragedy,
it was simply normal.

Until she realized that ****** fists and slamming doors
had no place in a home.
And that maybe
just maybe
her house was never really a home.

Because ignorance is bliss.
And if you don't understand
that some things are right
and some are wrong
everything is still just okay

To the bright-eyed girl who didn't know
that her childhood was ripped away
until it was too late

With the sound of your voice you
touch my soul and I am so glad
for that touch and sometimes  I
celebrate the sound of your voice
and at other times I feel the need
to recover from it.

You can speak a world into existence
or empty life of its meaning and the
unspeakable is heard and felt when
you speak to me, and as I hear your
voice I am touched.

When you speak the energy flows
and just the sound of your voice
makes me glad to be alive and glad
that I am a man.

With your voice you banish fear,
soothe and caress challenges and
delights and when you speak the
subject does not matter but for me
the sound of your voice does.

The fascination that is you, the
mystery that is you, I find and know
in the sound of your voice and as the
sound of your voice excites  and
nurture's me I warm myself in
it as it touches my soul.

When we speak our souls resonate
and intimacy occurs and we attend
to what we love and who we love
and that is the sound of each others
voice and one another.

Should you speak to me in urgency
or despair gladly I would take
on the world for you and you know
this and  P S, I Love You
                                                  Jon York     2018

bursting at the seams,
thread pulled apart.
sewing needle tossed to the side.

overflow of butterflies.
once caterpillars,
now fluttering.

swooned mirrors,
no broken glass
of bad luck.

love poured from
crystal jugs,
all over my fragile body.

sea creatures swim
in my belly.
mountain tops dusted
with icing sugar.

*  *  *
i am so in love with you.
everyday you must know.
this is
how i feel when i am
with you.

this is me.

purely beautiful.

all this time,

buried underneath,

heavy earth.

soil that dirtied
my soul.

mud of the old.

seeds planted.

blooming.

flowers and stems,
garden beds.

words spun from delicate petals,
shaped into what lies here.

. . .
me. finally. i am me.

(i have not known
who i actually am..
why i am here..
what is my purpose..?)

when you finally discover yourself,
you can only cry a mixture
of both salty and sweet tears,
sadness and true joy.

pure beauty,
a discovery of self.

makes every single horrid thing,
i went through,
worth it.