Dust dancing on rays of morning light;
she and I, and coffee flavored love.
The silence between the words was heavy
with an undertone of doubt.
Something she was hesitant to say
was fighting it's way from mind to mouth.
lovely lips parted to a broken sound
that became words- that became a eulogy
"I do not want a man who writes poetry"
she said, and sighed a long grasp for words
"I want a man who fights and sweats imported whiskey;
I want a man with diamond teeth and scars that tell a story.
I want a man who can juggle twelve running chainsaws
while riding on a unicycle."
Her wet and downcast eyes were blind,
and struggling with her troubled mind,
she did not see that I took the hint 5 minutes ago.
she didn't see that I had left;
because I am a man who writes poetry.

Flickering
The future reads like an unfinished novel
Promising
Yet alluding still
I wanted to press myself within you but I can't seem to hold still
70 degrees in December
Tornado watch over the city
While the true storm brews within me
Nothing seems clear these days
What has been
What has yet to be
And the real mystery is what's inside and all around me
Shimmering nerves
Late night stare
You say you hate losing sleep but you stayed up just to talk to me
Maybe so I'll meet you in sleep like you meet me in mine
And I can't get the idea of your hands out of my head
Tentative yet reverent tracing the edges of my tender form
Warm to your touch
I am warm to your touch and it isn't much but
I can't stop writing your name
Trying to catch your curiousity through the mutual language of our entanglement
The constant question: affection
The weight of your eyes from across the room
or from across the concept of distance  manifested through the digital age
We're both romantics anyway
So we go as moths drawn to the flame
The light from another room
The candle left lit for a lover or child
The future
Flickering but promising
Uncertain as a tornado in the midst of winter
The future comes in waves.

Trees do sway and dance
as birds in the sky go fly
end is yet to come.

ribs shattering,
i can feel the cage
opening, letting loose
the butterflies that were
trapped inside

there was once a garden
in my chest, yes,
lungs with
lovely lilies
and lavender
laid around but

you knew of the garden,
you could smell roses on my breath
you could hear the butterfly's wings

you tore the beauty out of me

there will be no beauty six feet above me,
there will be no love from you
for you want all the flowers for yourself

do i not deserve pretty things?

i wait
expectantly
willing you
to look my way
you are the only one
i've noticed
across a room
full of uninteresting
people
your smile
poked me
i turned
and there you were
now i wait
eager
for that one glance
because when our eyes lock
i will try
and reel you in.