If I don't know love
Today, I shan't know it
Tomorrow.

With liquid bliss and
Nervous lips, my heart
Is not to borrow.

My heart, it sits engraved
In pain, but nonetheless
It's yours.

You have the power,
In a sense, to love me to
The core.

By that, I mean, I
Give you me, and in return
I want

A love that floats or
Simply flows like smoke
Before a blunt.

I want your gaze, the
Lovely haze, that
Sees right thru my sin.

I crave the warmth of
Your embrace that thaws the
Chill of skin.

I'll hold your heart with
Fervid care and brag of
How it's mine.

Won't let you go, I
Love you so, my
Pretty Valentine.

There exists a place on earth
Where one can find true peace
A place away from stress and pain
A place where all of it will cease

For some, it's near the ocean
That a calm can always be found
The waves carry all the stress away
With that familiar relaxing sound

The coolness of the water,
And the warmth of sunny rays,
It doesn't take very long at all
Before the world melts away

For others it's the forest
That sets their mind at ease
The world feels completely still
When you're surrounded by tall trees

The air somehow feels calmer
It smells remarkably fresh
Some birds tweet in the distance
And your thoughts again can mesh

So often we get caught up
In the worries of the day
We forget to worry about ourselves
And take some time away

So whether you go alone
Or with someone you hold dear
Make sure to find the time you need
To make your head feel clear

To share my dreams with
To sleep next to every night
To laugh with everyday
To have children with
To love and cherish
To marry one day
To watch endless movies with
To spend forever with
To simply BE with
I would choose you
Every single time
EVERY SINGLE DAY
*ALWAYS

Listen, it's a beautiful thing
when distilled to its essence;
reduced to its purest form.
A paradox and a paradigm;
a paragon of perfection.
Epic in its arythmetic
progression; poetic.
Like Chinese arithmetic,
so hard it hurts. Yet soft
and exquisite, like a bubble
of love caught in a beating heart.
That place where poetry starts.

I'm taking my life. to the pawnshop on a dusty summer-fall morning
     Because at this point I'm not sure what to use it for anymore
               And they'll give me cash for trash
   Like a mountain of crushed cans in exchange for a dream money can buy in a clear plastic baggie

No kiln yet fired
could ever bake
a ceramic as elegant,
as (yes) beautiful,
as (I can only guess) pleasant to hold
as yourself.