never knew you
except from
far away

never loved you
except from
far away

never
except for
in poems and colors

and  
...
you know

i never wanted to give
you anything more
than what you wanted.

tonight i was thinking
if the moon were one
of the eyes of God

would it rain every night,
or some nights shine so bright
that even the sleepiest birds

couldn't help singing?
i know
you remember.

dear india,
just one
question:

if you're gone, which you are,
and i'm gone, which i am,
gone like refugees,

why do you
keep showing up
in my dreams?

I file away every beautiful moment,
Each a memory's spark in your eyes.

I've collected memories,
cobalt grave,
lustrous,
doleful,
resplendent,

That haven't even happened yet.
If I lose you, where will I file those sparks?

I still get lost in them.

Do you ever wish you could choose your dream
Before you go to bed?

Mine'd find my nose lost, twisted
About jet-black, jawline beard hair
Scent of peppermint and the day's scrub cap

I'd get lost in the softness of underamour
Cotton blend cloth wrapped softly
Over chest fuzz and brown skin mounds
Musky and warm

Tongue rushing past tongue
Taste buds tingling like a newborn kitten's
Sand paper tongue or that zing that
Happens when you lick a battery.

Smiling eyes that look up at me
From chin rested on chest
And hand stroking face as if to say:
"I wouldn't be any other place
Than right here right now, so love me."

Two island flat feet, wide and deliberate,
Kicking like a baby might splash his
Feet in his first bath out of giddiness
And the longing for our ocean church.

Whispers of:
"I'm in love with you and
I'm so excited about it. And us."

A collection of songs that once covertly
Communicated longing and now
Proclaim belonging
Because--for ***** sake!--we waited
A long *** time
And it was worth it.

I guess I should start choosing dreams
Of the dark water abyss
Or flying
Or speaking 7 languages
Or a 6th and 7th sense.

Because I get to live this dream.
Every day.

Why do I deserve this?
How do I deserve this?
What did I do and in which
Lifetime that has lead to
Me receiving such prodigious love?

Your face beaming upward
Backward hat left ear bent

Your eyes scale my
Adam's apple
Chin
Bottom Lip
Top Lip
Philtrum
Tip of Nose
Bridge
Bottom Lash
Pupil locked

You smile
Then wink
In that way I said I hated
Because I thought it was cheap
And I'm glad I said that
Because now I love it
And the ****** expression
And words that follow
Every Single Time
"Sup?"

Can I read you a poem?

Our inside jokes
Build
Rigorously
Congruously
Correlationally
To our love,
Pesto.

But you already know that.

You inspire me
Blue flame fire in me
You will agree
To a large degree
Is on account of our
Souls' connectivity
Meant to be

My heart dances on the bridge
That connects tears of laughter
And tears of shear happiness and
Gratitude and as my heart swells
To rugby ball bloat
I ask: What am I going to do with you?
You say: Love me.

Well?
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I'm in love with you.

Pesto, let's go home.

Your love wakes my soul,
Just as the Spring wakes the Earth,
Both tickle the core.

i wrote a lot of great poetry when i was in love
i wrote even better poetry when i was in pain
i wrote the best poetry when i realized that the two emotions were actually the same.

These were never an option
never going to happen
we cannot change the past
why do I entertain the possibilities of what if?


Tempting me with an alternative
alternative what?
outcome…
was that alternative there when I was living the moment?
no..
what if ...dancing across my…


What if I…
said
walked
hit back
shook it off
didn’t buy into the lie


Following the path of
What if…
working through the flow
of choices
branches of
paths that will never be
can never be


What if is a...
madness
trapping me…
in the past
in a falsehood
in a maze with no exit
an infinite fallout
a theory of string


What if…
never was …never will

#thisjourneyofdays

Also: I feel ******* sick. Not physically. Although: sometimes the pit in my stomach feels like the point of this lose's impact.

Actually:  this feels incredibly age appropriate.

Also: I don't define myself by what I don't like. People know what I like. And that's love and poetry and lipy kisses and the final season of Girls and volunteering.

Actually:  when you said the word "actually" after anything positive or interesting, it made me feel like you defined yourself by what you didn't like and since we met, things got so good for you that you were pleasantly surprised by a constant string of nice things you started to see again (or maybe only started seeing for the first time).

Also: now that it's over, I wonder how often you say "actually."

Actually: I'm half freaked half stoked to see you Friday night.

Also: I keep searching for the perfect song to send to you that communicates exactly how I feel; mainly because we aren't talking right now and I've gotten so used to secretly coded  artistic messaging doing all of my talking for me. Something by Lucy Rose, I think.

Actually: I'm afraid to reach out too soon because I don't want to admit I want you and also I don't want to give you false hope.

Also: I think about you constantly. And also you constantly.

Actually: I killed it way too soon and started something new so fast that my head is spinning and all I really want is to say sorry to your bottom lip for my absence.

Also: I feel immense guilt.

Actually: that bottom lip I want to apologize to for my absence, I also need to apologize to for making stick out when your face was that red and your cheeks that wet. Because making you cry. Those eyes. Those sounds. ****! I'm sorry I ever made you cry. I'm so sorry. Please never cry. Never cry. Please.

Also:  I don't ever want the cotton of my shoulder to be so saturated.

Actually: I made a decision based on my gut that had me sure of myself for the 3 weeks leading to my birthday and now 2 weeks since my birthday, I can't find the security in my gut.

Also: 30 doesn't feel more secure at all.

Actually: I need space but I haven't been able to count on myself to create it.

Also: I'm super worried these feelings won't die because, even though I both do and don't want them to, I know they need to to make these feelings grow.

Actually: I know I said I was up for the gamble. And we really just might win it all. But I might also lose it all.

Also: I think I'm exactly where I am supposed to be in my socialization.

Actually: **** makes me paranoid and ***** makes me feel fat but sleep and cardio and water and caffeine make me feel ******* good.

Also: not a huge fan of raw fish that isn't tuna. Also: **** seaweed salad.

Actually: I just want to be the best version of myself. Character matters. I'm gaining experience. I want **** to be easy. It's not and won't be. And that's fine. I just don't want to hurt anyone. I want to search and feel and taste and

Make love
love
love.

I have never
(and hopefully
never will be again)
Secretly in such deep
Love with someone

Piano, guitar, trumpet, drums, voice
Brilliant in his ability
To absorb knowledge
His mind a sponge

Consistently chill
Not easily riled

Persistently positive
And funny

When we met I was
An overweight, ******
Textbook closet case
Face in textbooks

Eating and smoking
To fill the void

I’d find any reason at all
To spend time with him

Tennis?
Sure!, Let’s go!

Dinner out?
Who’s driving?

Monty Hall Piano Room?
Let me spark this joint first.

What’s worse was that I
Loved (and still love and adore)
His then girlfriend

And so it was this strange
Situation where I loved
The couple, was secretly
Obsessed with the boy
And so jealous of the girl

But I was too ashamed and
Self-aware to be nasty to her
Because it wasn’t her fault

Shame so locked in my marrow
I couldn’t even project
The insecurity it created

Cristo and Lirah
Would go out for a romantic
Dinner and I’d feel
More alone in those moments
Than any other

So I’d smoke and do school work
Or walk through the woods with Nayla
Or go eat with Jireh

~~~

Side bar: So it turned out that
Jireh had a big ‘ol thing for me

I was so blind because
Of my behavioral asexuality
‘Locked in’ gayness
Love for Cristo

I may have led her on for like, years.
That’s ******.

And John had a thing for Jireh

Weird love non-triangles
All over the ******* place

- - -

We drank so much

I remember drinking every day for
The last month of my junior year
In WC14

Movie night?
Word: White Russians
Pair well with Bladerunner

My shame was so strong that
Even when I was blacked out
(Or nearly blacked out)
I could still use a Treuschler
Bathroom to ****

Then stare at myself in the mirror
And be disgusted with my
Own reflection

“You love him.
You love Cristo.”

“You’re ******* gay, bro.”
“SAY IT. "

"TO ANYONE.”

. . .

“******* coward.”

Shame slicing right
Through the shitfacedness
For self chastisement

- - -

I told him I was gay
At a club in Baltimore a few days
Before I left for Micronesia

He said: “Where are we going
for your send off?”

I said: “The Hippo.”

He said: “You know that’s a
gay bar, right?”

“Yeah, man. It’s cool.”

I told him after returning from
Peace Corps
That I’d been in love
With him in our college
Years

Cool, collected and responsive
As usual, he said:

“Thank you.”