Wine and unpacking
Something is lacking
I left it behind
But there's not a sign
Not even a trace
I can't see your face
Am I just a disgrace
Who can't find her place?

His heart is a ghost town
Everyone's a tourist
A visitor
They move in and unpack
Unknowingly awaiting eviction

Take a closer look and see
Shadows of what seemed to be
No real bodies live within
What seems so full is just bones and skin

I could write poetry about the way he touches me
But can't seem to describe how when he looks me in the eyes
I can feel his vulnerabilities seeping out of his skin for me

The tips of his fingers are ecstacy running up my spine
His palms are floating life boats that would never leave me behind

He makes me want to slow down time
and fast forward to see what we'd find

Right as he begins to drift off to sleep, kiss his forehead.

Be his sunrise. Make him coffee in the morning, even if you do not want any. If he holds your hand, grasp his in return, with all of the love in your body. Feel his pulse; his heart, pumping blood through his veins, through his hands, through his fingers, which wrap around yours with passion and life. Let it consume you.

This way, when all is said and done, he will remember your lips on his sleepy skin, and how he was protected at his most vulnerable...how his mind could rise peacefully with your help. He'll look at his open palm and wonder if yours is warm, and he can almost feel you intertwined with his lonely bones.

It may sting in the moment, but you've created a fire within him that will never burn out, and all you can do is hope that the next set of bones interlocking with his will be well worth his time. You've given him standards. You've given him what every soul deserves. You've given him love. And what ache isn't worth love?

We used to have a clear definition. Everything was easy. He slept on the left side of the bed. I had a toothbrush at his place and vice versa. I threw his out when he broke up with me. I think I did it for the symbolism. Mine is still in his bathroom. I think he just forgot it was there.

Where'd you go?
I look for you under my sheets
Under my skin
Under my surface
Feelings surface
But feelings have no home now
I love a ghost of what once was
But no longer exists

I'm a sucker
The spark we created when our eyes met has died down
and burnt out
There's no doubt

Some things aren't meant to last forever
No matter how beautiful
No matter how perfect
Maybe nature is running its course
and we have to let go
I hope it isn't so

Maybe one day we will cross paths
and with the slightest glance
everything will fall back into place

Maybe one day...

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.