dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.

i’m hoping
disposing
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,
please.

love,

me.

poetry poured from me
when I thought of you
all blue ink was made of your eyes
every white page, your skin
verses were a joy to create
I felt freedom in imagination
shared thoughts and feelings
inspiration from your lips
your tongue and teeth
both cobra and kitten
strike or purr, I loved both
now orchids are a hallowed
feeling in the pit of my chest
where once a heart was
the night is dreadfully boring
the moon writes no sonnets
every rainbow is filtered in sepia
stars illuminate and I feel nothing
oceans are filled of dead things
another day passes
where thoughts are unspoken
and pen never meets paper

I want you to
write poems
on my skin
with your hands

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.

catcall the bell-wearer
whose toll is paid in soft looks
longing sighs and blue eyes
like a Siamese cat because
an animal caged won't rebel
whistle and marvel at lithe grace
possessed by beauty of presence
charm that smokes and chars
magnified only by their walk
like a dance for poppies
made only more appealing
with cold shoulders and fury