the taste of your mouth
lingers on my lips,
taunting me with memories
of our bodies entangled in my bed sheets.
how am i supposed to forget
the static of your breath against my neck,
and my hands on your beating chest?
the places on my body
where your hands had touched
leaves a tingling that makes me
yearn for more.
i crave you.

it’s been so long
that you’ve been gone
yet the electricity in your touch
has lingered inside of me
for much longer than our time spent apart.
and now,
you’re back again
with that same transcendentalist stride
holding the world in your hands
as if you were a god
and if you are to be so powerful
please, by all means
take my fate into your strong hands
and make me everything you need
create, in me
an everlasting love
with enough will to conquer galaxies
and enough hope
to save whatever is left
of this humanity.

It will always be you.
In the corners of my restless
mind, when I close my eyes,
and open them again.
You are a heart murmur
that taunts my waking day,
the inevitable gust of wind,
from the ocean to the shore.
A broken electrical socket
that I refuse to replace.

I found myself by your
old apartment. I remember
the first time I had trudged
up these stairs, the first time my hands
had touched the bronze ****
to open your front door. Being here,
again, was not the same.
You were not here.

I knocked on the front door, greeted
by your old roommate, who had
the same delightful grin plastered
on his bearded mouth. Shuffling my feet,
He invited me in.
The walls were bare, carefully decorated
with about a dozen records,
a few art pieces, and a large illuminated
OPEN sign. It looked different
than before when you were here.

I sat on the couch as he made me a cup
of coffee; I imagined you laying me
carefully on the stained, white couch.
What would it be like to look
into your eyes again? I want to see
if you could see through my eyes,
and if I could do the same. I let myself
onto your balcony to smoke a cigarette.
The smoke danced around my fingertips
as I leaned against the railing, and looked
over my shoulder, in the corner,
where I remember the first time
I wanted to kiss you.

A few years ago, at one of your
swanky parties, I was standing
on the balcony looking into the party
through the glass doors. You were
across the room, talking to a young woman
with a smile playing on your mouth.
You looked so completely engaged
in what she was saying, and your eyes gleamed
as you looked at her and touched
her softly. What would I have to do
to be that woman, so that
I may grasp your face
between my delicate hands and kiss you,
because of how beautiful you were.

As a bid your old roommate goodbye, I also
said goodbye to the building where I had fallen
for you.  Perhaps it is good that I did this,
so that I can let go of whatever I thought
we could have been.

feeling your body next to mine
is still as exhilarating
as the first time
we were tangled in your sheets -
your hands slid down
my thighs
my breath was heavy and
hot against your neck
it was summer then
the nights were warm and sticky
and we ran about like hopeless fools
trying to take advantage of
our youth
now evenings grow crisp
i snuggle closer
stealing your warmth
you pull me in against your chest
listening to the steady beat
of your fragile
heart
sends chills down my spine
just like the first time.
tell me,
my handsome lover,
that even as the seasons change
you won’t let me go.

him:*      if i were there, i'd be a tourist, you know.
me:       and i'd kiss you longer than i've kissed any tourist.
him:      if you kissed me, i'd be the last tourist you kissed.

tonight i dreamt
that you were here
and coaxed me into bed.
last night i dreamt
that you were near
not a vision in my head.
tomorrow i will dream again
of things i hope i’ll find.
but i really shouldn't play pretend
or i will loose my mind.

It's not about you,
not anymore.
It's about how
I feel like a stranger
lying next to you,
on your futon on the floor
of your best friend's loft.
It's about how you say,
"No,
I cannot kiss you right now,
for my lips are dry."
It's about how
when the buildings
around us start collapsing,
you run to safety,
and forget that I'm
still asleep on the couch
It's about how
when my hair is done,
and pulled slightly to the side,
you say, "But it looks better,
the other way."
It's not about you,
or the way you walk
with confidence and charm,
or how I could gaze in your eyes,
for infinity.

It's about how
I cry when I watch
romantic French dramas,
and how I love
collecting withered flowers,
in empty alcohol bottles
It's about all the things,
you've never thought to ask
and all the days,
you've ignored the way
I have longed for you.
No,
it will never be about you,
not anymore.
This time,
it's about me.

it’s 10:43, i miss you. so i’m smoking a cigarette.
it’s 10:44, time is going by slow. i keep thinking of  lyrics that remind me of you.
it’s 10:45, i put out my cigarette. why aren’t you here? i can’t stop thinking about you.
it’s 10:46, is it possible you miss me too?
it’s 10:47, my feelings haven’t changed.

a small grey cat
sits upon my window sill
staring at the moon
i wonder if she wants it
half as bad
as i want you.

we spent all our time
curled up like cats
in his bed
with a broken mattress.
this is home.

last night i slept away
from you, my love.
my bed sheets were cold,
and the other side
of my bed
- much too large for myself,
was vacant.
did you miss me at all?
your arms around me
my back against your chest
the television flickering in the background.
when you awoke
were you surprised i was not there
to turn to you
as the sun broke through the morning sky?

the extra small shirt,
that hugs your chest
in all the right places.
a warm, winter pea coat,
on a cold, windy evening.
glasses that are a little bit stretched out
so that you may push me closer
to your face when I start to fall.
the most delicate parts
of your daily routine,
i want to invade it and be part
of your adventurous life.