kiss my spine
so intimate
your flaming breath
seeps through me
as if the years have made me porous

trace the silhouette
of my calloused fingers
and linger
on the ridges of my wrist
you shiver
I resist
the temptation of escape

rest your head against my own
so heavy with memories
the sinking weight
of stories never told

I taste your breath
I taste your empathy
I taste the words
you never said

today i will look for
chocolate and flowers
and find a pound of
belgian dark in my
pantry, and wilted
tulips on the counter.
i will hand write a
poem because it's
just so much better
on paper, and i will
serenade my darling
with bright eyes
on a scholastic field
after the last bell rings,
for at last i can stop
musing on possibilities
and begin to dwell
on solidity.

today i will bring you
a rose, for the petals
and lines and worn
down world-weary
ravines contained
in you; i will bring
you sweet darkness
in a plastic wrapping
for all the sugar laced
in with your hair and
irises, and despite your
fire and your heritage,
i will leave out the heat
of sacred mayan ritual
peppers because together
we'll be warm enough.

     finally, i will lean
  down close to you and
    whisper what i have
     not whispered for a
  million seconds or more,
    because i just haven't
     had the opportunity:
  *Ya llegué, mi querida.

I saw these neighbourhoods
I grew up in these neighbourhoods
I saw these streets
I grew up in these streets
I lived passed them… sort of
I didn't end up in jail, a ******… or deceased
Still, whenever I walk through them today... I feel at home
A sense of belonging
A nostalgic longing…
To remain here forever
But realize that forever would be too long
I would be fed up by month number five
Getting high every day… getting into fist fights
That was no way to live a life
It was just about getting through the day…
Survive
Exist
Eat
Be alive
These things are very different from living
Because the devil that gives you certain heights… compliments them with issues
And he just keeps on giving
I see the junkies, a hardened lot
Taking their ‘cut’ from the public service vehicles plying their route
And woe be unto the tout that refuses to pay
For these scavengers get vicious, they scratch, punch… and loot
I call them scavengers because that’s what they seem like… true
But as I look into the crowd, their ‘gang’, I realize that I know one of them… actually two
They cross over to me; we bump fists… a way of greeting
We’re still ‘boys’, but if I were to describe them now as ‘wayward’?... Fitting
I cannot do that though
We may have taken different paths in life, but there was a time when we hang together
A time when we were young, running around these streets and I called this place home
Now, what sort of man would I be if I just upped and forgot where I came from?

She was a girl with soft lips and a hard heart. One you kinda veered off from when you're next to at the mall. She was lovely specimen of perfume and paint which soaked her veins and made me enamored with her sweet perfection. And before I knew it, I was a victim of love itself. Love, one of innocence falls solemnly to its unknown vices, unaware of the pain and terrible heartache one can be trapped after loving someone. I loved her without hesitation. I loved her without holding a single song back. I loved her, with the knowledge that she may never see me throw cupid's spell that little naked babe cast on me. She was a mystery. One who kept to herself as if she had been a victim of pain brought on by the horrible tragedies that love can create. Maybe that's why I was so in love. She was a caged tiger, still incredibly beautiful yet dangerous to the touch. Only distance would protect me, but I was like a zookeeper. And distance was not an option. I could no longer look from afar. I was done with just looking. To feel her brown gold locks against my skin would be as if I'm lying china silk. To have those diamond eyes look at me with kindness and affection would be staring at the face of a cherubim. A ****** from sins of this world who would be the very one to restore my soul. I was enchanted, infected, and very much obsessed for this girl was…unfathomable and one I could only write about, so I did.

I think you fell over two stories in love with me. Into an ocean and you poor thing, drowned without even realizing it.
And I felt like you met a person that I didn't even know.
Never thinking I really was ever that special,
But those blue eyes suddenly found me captivating,
And someone found me out to be more then just pretty,
A boy who finally didn't wanna leave,
A sincere heart,
One who maybe I could for once trust and perhaps love,
But oh, that scary word, how mysterious it is, to be in,
Love, what must your heart ache for me,
How it thumps up and down so rapidly
And just now I'm beginning to feel violent sharp tremors when your name just enters my brain,
Can it be?
Love or are we both still far too young

Her first intake was a cry of life,
Her first breath a sigh of relief
She lived within the wise trees
Among the youthful valleys
Throughout the shy and mighty winds.
She cried with the prey
She sprung with the predators,
Laughed with the leaves
Lay with the rivers
Fell with the minds of men
And rose again with their hearts.
This land was hers
These oceans she owned
Because she let herself feel,
The good along with the bad
Hope as well as despair,
Joy along with sorrow,
Both love and hate
She was free
And the world was hers for the taking.

Tonight I'm missing nothing...

but my life, my best friend

At one point,
tears aren't worth it anymore.

And you're left with that feeling,
that you're missing something.

I've found that to live life
sans every regret
takes detection,
admittance,
and the strength to forget.