At the center
of everything
there is a beat-
of a heart
of a drum
that carries all life.

It all moves,
fluxes, and flows.
a waltz, then a foxtrot.
It doesn't matter,
it's all the same-
                            same life force, same song.

I, too, hear that music,
and so I dance.

I'm not sure
if I love very many things,
but here are the few
that I can remember:

I love the taste of dark chocolate
in November

I love the silver of the sky
just before it rains

I love first sips of coffee
from new mugs

I love the taste of oysters,
but not as much as pesto

I love that one song you'd play for me,
about the boat sinking

I love the kind of soft sadness
that reminds you of who you used to be.

I'm falling for you
so much faster
than I could climb.

Why is it
every time I try to write about you
my mind
blanks,
and the typewriter
resets
to the next page?

I write my best poetry
with my mouth
on your skin.

Little did I know
that I would spend
the majority of my time
trying to write a poem
as beautiful
as you say I am.

You used to be my favorite novel,
but now when I read your pages
I get paper cuts.