Sometimes I like to wonder,

does my pen move
the same way as yours?

Does it
             dance?
Does it
             sing?

                        Does it
impel a grateful piece
of paper to smile,
and laugh out
tiny bubbles of its dream
to be admired in the Louvre?

Or does the paper bleed
angry droplets of deep-coloured
ink-blood from its ink-heart
from its ink-soul; or does it cry
little black tears
from its dark fountains of literature?

Does the paper feel
all of these things
as you sketch your last
line
or as I write my last
word?

What then, when every one of your pictures
makes words in the thousands?
How many more chunks of eternity
can you paint versus my poetry?


                    Yet you say I understand you.


Sometimes what you paint
flickers like in the movies,
and every frame

makes me wonder

if the way my pen moves
is just something someone animated
in her free time instead of studying.
Maybe then it wouldn't be too much
to say that sometimes
you sketch me into life.

Maybe then, this is why, sometimes


                    you say I understand you.


Even if I can barely hear your oxygen
over the noise of glittering pixels
that often disappoint us when we seek
more
than these strange profundities online,
where emotion is a commodity
and not ink... not paper...

It doesn't matter.

Because maybe my pen
was sketched by you.

And maybe
your poetry, your art
Dances. Sings. Smiles.
Laughs. Bleeds. Cries.
                                     Breathes.


                    So you can as well.

When I stand by your side, my skin can melt steel,
When I hear you heart singing, mine starts to heal.
When I look in your eyes, I see the beauty of stars,
Whenever you cry, I wish I bore your scars.

Can you keep a secret ?
If I whisper in your ear.
Find a spot so you can keep it.
Until the coast is clear. We can
sit in the meadows as the deers
pass by near and the shadows
disappear. As the fear fades away
and your mine for the year. Today
tomorrow and for a forever. Can
you keep a secret if I whisper it to
you under the hotel chandeliers. Where
the crystals shine bright and
clear . Can you keep a secret
As we sit by the babbling brook
We could hide in the country side
Were no one would think to look
If we stayed in the city
I'm sure we'd be found out.
Can you keep a secret ?
If I tell it to you now. As the
roses bow down to us while
we sit on the grass and blush.
As we feel our pulses rush. With
a gentle touch and a hush I’ll
whisper to you the sweetest
words of love ~

I have seen couples,
So far from each—
Other, on a platform,
Waiting for the next train,
Never touching, yet how
They ****** their mobile
Devices, how softly, sweet,
Without guile nor agenda
They swipe the glass—
As it swoons back in return
With blue lights and alerts,
So dearly needed and answers,
In way words for the machines
Of flesh and the ghost within,
With such personal aplomb
In real notifications of text
And instant message.

Pick a note
Any note
Watch it tremble
Shiver like a songbird’s wings

Wailing through your fingers
An echo of your pick
Crashing through the realms
Of the different notes to choose

Take it down
Pull it up
And sing
Sing like a shivering string

As the night
Sits and passes by
I also sit outside
Staring up at the sky

I'd rather know than believe
But I believe in you
Knowing you'll never show

Knowing I'll never know
Yet still
Believing you're all that matters

I don't trust things I can't see through
They're as trustworthy as I am
Solid, taking up space

Faith in God, faith in you
I sometimes have trouble finding
A difference in the two

Faith's a gift
Belief's a risk
Selah

I'd rather have faith than to know
Walking the mundane streets of this life I've been given
A little uncertainty is a good thing

So long as you're the central theme
Magnetic north
A lighthouse guiding me home

When I get there I'll know
Arms entwined, dying to faith and belief
Into eternal life of omniscience

Knowing
As we are known
Selah