you're my world, my sun, my sky,
my moon, my clouds, the reason why
i wake up, to start each day,
and watch these hours tick away.
for without you, the world'd seem,
like such a cruel and surreal dream,
without a point or cause or truth,
like some painful wisdom tooth,
which has no place but hurt and pains,
a world in which the mundane reigns,
but instead, now i've got you,
i've got a love, complete and true,
to keep afloat, as we both swim,
down life's river, through thick and thin,
just remember, these last words i write,
there is no need for fear or fright,
i love you, with all my heart,
we are perfect, a work of art.

i'll never forget her.

she talked to me in an unknown language,
spoken through fingertips, smiles and long gazes.

her hair was tangled and unwashed,
her complexion blotchy and unrefined,
but she was beautiful.

knowing the world was crashing down around us,
we just held one another, smiling slightly,
and it was blissful oblivion.

strands of hair brushed lightly against her rosy cheek,
as if wishing to wipe away her tears.

her eyes were sad, and her hands shook.

she had lost the spring in her step,
the glimmer in her eye,
and the heat in her fingers.

i struggled to find words that could soothe,
so i could caress her soul and not just her body,
but it seems that power is reserved for my pen.

snowflakes drifted lazily from the dark sky,
like millions of little people,
who had jumped, before they saw how far down,
it really was.

she hiccoughed once,
twice,
three times before getting up.

she stumbled towards the kitchen,
a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth haphazardly.

she poured herself another glass of her choice poison,
and gulped.
and gulped.
and gulped.

more tears came as she slid to the floor,
the glass slipping from her hand and shattering across the tiles.

she spoke softly,
her voice quivering in the silence of the night.
"**** me."

sometimes when i look at you,
i hear you as a song.
the song that traps and haunts me,
when it is for you i long.

i hear you in each instrument,
you are the upright bass.
the jazzy riffs of saxophones
paint for me your face.

you are the wild, subtle drums,
the cello and the chimes.
you are the twinkling, dancing harp,
whose timbre simply shines.

i hear you in each symbol crash
and every kick drum beat.
you are the candied flutes,
with notes so sickly sweet.

and the more and more i listen,
the more i feel you here,
i can hold your hand in mine--
tremulous, pure, sincere.

but the longer we are kept apart,
the fainter your theme seems,
until the only place i hear it
is amongst my dusty dreams.

i would do most anything,
to have you here right now.
i'd gather up ten thousand monks,
and speak to them the tao.

i would trade the sun and moon
and all the blue-black skies,
to wake to you one time again,
and not once more arise.

for when we lay there side-by-side,
there's nothing quite as real.
to pass these weeks without you here
cuts wounds too deep to feel.

but when our bodies reconvene
and our hands do intertwine,
our minds and souls will do so too,
free at last to recombine.

i want us to mean the world to each other.
i want us to eat lunch by the shore.
i want to swim in your eyes as you swim in mine.

i want us to take the train and walk hand in hand,
discovering together all the beautiful things in the world.

i want nothing more than to bathe in your presence,
to encase you in my arms and melt away with you.

i want every thought that fills my mind to be of you,
my every waking moment an exaltation of your radiance.

i want to get to know your mind, body, and spirit.
i want to get lost with you.
i want us to observe afternoon naps
and early morning walks.

i want to feel time crawl by,
while i savour every sublime second with you.

i want your mere passing through my thoughts
to evoke the most ecstatic emotion.

i want us to love us.

lunar luminance lights his lucent lordly lair.
leaden legs languish lazily as he lay, laconic--
lexical loquaciousness long lost.
his latent lupine lust lignifies and lengthens,
longing lonesomely for his lovely limber lioness.
with lips of luxurious labial liquer,
and licks lapping like lashing lingual lightning,
liquifying his lavish lover, luscious lyrical lubrication.

we lay up on that hill for what seemed like years.
we could hear a train gliding over it's rusted tracks somewhere in the distance,
and the distant streetlights flickered slightly.
the darkness was penetrated only by silver-lined moonbeams.

her chest moved up and down slowly as she took each breath,
her hair smelled lightly of apricot shampoo,
her eyes still managed to sparkle in the surrounding black.

we spoke in hushed whispers,
afraid to upset the stillness of the night.

hours passed, and dawn slowly crept forth,
casting rays from behind the patchy clouds.
she turned and smiled to me,
as her eyes adjusted to new day's break.

the eternal transience,
ended only by her little voice.

the sense of belonging,
solidified only by her smile.

my aching heart,
sent racing by her fleeting glance.

this very room,
lit up by her utter radiance.

as her lips sent hushed whispers dancing towards my ears,
i smiled slightly, knowing that I hadn't anything to say.

no way of telling her that she need not fear,
that my arms could protect and shelter.

no way to explain my master plan,
had I really ever had one.

no way of telling her,
what she meant,
for me.

i reach for the gum in my pocket.
pulling the package out, i see the pristine morsel,
for a few moments i just sit and stare.
my heart begins to pound,
my hands shaking slightly in the eerie silence.
i suddenly tear at the packaging,
fighting against plastic and foil.
as the piece is freed from its packaged prison,
i fumble with it awkwardly in my hands,
before putting it in my mouth.
i let out a sigh: peppermint exctasy.
a new feeling washes over me,
god i need her here.

i sat there mystified,
my eyes lost in hers.

i searched fruitlessly for something witty to say,
trying to coax out a smile, a laugh.

as her quiet discontentment radiated outward,
i yearned to pick the right words,
some way to calm the storm brewing.

my thoughts flickered to earlier that day:
her eyes, deep, sparkling jewels.

her hair framing every stunning feature of her face.

her laugh, a luxurious liqueur,
and i longed to drink and drink and drink.

all i wished to do, was to bring her to that place again,
to bring her joy; to make her happy.

out of landscapes frigid and wind-torn,
and from within ancient trees proudly time-worn,
for you this vernal season's born.

the bone-white blanket of snow liquefies,
and the deep, gray clouds quickly clear blue skies ,
at mere sight of your bright sparkling eyes.

you turn the soft damp dew of morning air
from moisture into perfume fragrant fair,
with a laugh and twist of silken dark-brown hair.

and as your smile spreads radiantly,
leaves on bough of cherry tree
arrange in squamous symphony.

that laugh. what i wouldn't give to bottle it,
so that when i am alone,
i can unstopper her happiness.

from beneath the steadiness of her convictions,
a minute quiver of doubt
gave rise to seismic realization.

a rather austere ordeal,
like the waning of a summer's moon,
from which springs fall.

sitting in the bulwark she'd built for herself,
she feels satisfaction as she absorbs the fumes,
her personal ritual complete.

the floor grew distant, and the walls began to melt.
a cascade of sparks danced across her neurons,
and chemicals saturated her brain.

her soul expanded; her mind widened.
her breathing became ragged, and her heart frantic.
moments passed by as hours.

thoughts blurred through her mind.
streams of consciousness streaked past.
the brainstorm flooded the streets.

her train of thought sped along,
and as suddenly as the insight came,
it dissipated into polychromatic smoke.

the numbness slowly drained from her fingers.
her thoughts became sluggish in comparison,
as the euphoric edge evanesced.

tears rose in her eyes as waves of nausea swept over her,
and pain erupted in her head, within which,
the sound of her uneven breathing reverberated endlessly.

after the agony had passed,
she returned to the outside world,
drowsy and disoriented.

the jaundiced stares of her former peers pierced her.
each word that she spoke, disregarded,
and every action judged.

she felt the weight of their censure,
but the heavier encumbrance was her basic need,
to fill each breath with her death sentence.

sometimes, i wish these words could hold you.
i wish they could wrap their consonents arround your shoulders,
and i wish their vowels could whisper secrets in your ear.

i wish that these words could make 700 miles seem like right next door.

i wish that these words could derail trains,
sink ships and clip the wings of even the mightiest birds.

what if, these words could stop you in your tracks,
send a chill down your spine,
and hum you the simplest lulaby.

what if these words could send your heart racing,
make your eyes well with tears,
and help your spirit soar.

your finger tips, they speak of days, they speak of places far away,
of lakes and lochs and fjords and bays, they speak what you're afraid to say.
they tell me much of what you fear, your need to be held close and near,
they tell me who you are my dear, they scream and yell and dance and cheer,
your finger tips they call to me, they drag me far far out to sea,
they show me who you want to be, and they do this all so silently.
this is why i miss your touch, it seems so simple but it's much,
much more than that, you are my crutch, that's why your hand i'll always clutch.