in soft hours when your heart’s
awake dreaming
and you feel a soft whisper
gently tracing
your skin, your spine to your soul
that’s me loving
you

you don’t have to ask
it’s one of those things
we learn in school
you know, fun facts?
a scorpion stings,
the sky is blue,
and i love you
and i love you

have I ever told you?
you are the August moon, December rain
and I am summer year-round.
when we meet, the light catches
and from your rain and my sun
we make a burst of color -
fleeting,
beautiful,
and never real.

you don't know how much love I can give
you worry about the abyss, the dark
you worry no one will remember you
but I have written you into everything
your eyes, the way they see
your mouth, the way it speaks

you don't know how much love I can give
if you let me trace you, then put you on paper
if you let me, I will leave behind enough words
for them to see your shape, your soul  
you have nothing to be anxious about
because
I will write you
I will love you
until the bittersweet end.

this is how much love I can give:
everything I have done, have written
is for you
and this love will be left behind
and you, my love, will be remembered
sleep quietly tonight

i open my mouth
to taste the rain
and pretend that is you
i am not cold, i am not wet
i am covered in you

plant your sorrows into my earth
and i will bear the sweetest fruit
the summer sun marks our rebirth
teeth bared, feline-like in her pursuit

i hope you

- lick rust, get tetanus, and die
- forget your keys in the car
- step on glass, get a foot infection, and die
- get a mind-numbing toothache from 11 PM to 2 AM
- get stuck in space with your oxygen running out
- never find someone who matches your freak
- compute your GPA and realize you’re a few points away from getting Latin honors
- choke on boba
- get bitten by an unidentified venomous snake and you don’t have access to the antidote so you slowly die
- get CC’ed on a HR email before you clock off
- time travel, get stuck in the 1800s, and die from cholera
- trip on your shoelaces and land on dogshit
- never find the other sock
- are the last person alive in a zombie-filled apocalyptic wasteland
- miss me

falling in love is
a little death
the chaos of its creation
revels in the
confusion which
bursts into brilliant white
then comes its
pseudo infinite life span
the way i think it will go
on and on and on
but really it ends
with a whimper and
a quietness
that marks its
last exhale

there is something soft
in the way pain heals
how a fresh wound
hardens like a shield
and in time
blooms into new skin
how a purple bruise
reminds in its familiarity
that it will be alright
like it has been alright
so many times before
there is something gentle
in the way pain heals
how the heart is a muscle
that can be fatigued
that can be broken
and in time
be renewed