Sun not even threatening
To set on this
Spring
Evening, and through her
Window facing the
Backyard I only now realise
That the maple tree must
Have been
Blossoming for days.

I suppose I was too occupied
With nonsense to
Notice.
Let's go, she whispers.
Let's forget about holding
Back, being rational, being so
******* realistic. Leave with
Me and just love.
I might.

I might already
Have come.

"Go on"
Shaking hands.
Unsteady heart.
Heavy breath.

You look at me as if you haven't eaten in years, and I am
The favorite dish you've savoured on the
tip of your Tongue.

I've had lovers before.
I've lost my breath with another man's name in my fading gasp.

But this is a different chapter.
No.
A different genre, written by gentle hands with an unsteady composure.

Birthmarks and fur
Fingernails and pearls of sweat dancing on the tip of your nose.
At last, I know what it feels like to be devoured.
Finally
I am
Naked.

sweet songs fill the
still and quiet summer night
leads my thoughts along the
narrow paths of lush green life
as moonlight filtered by the leaves above
sends shafts of beautiful silvery magic
like a visual kiss
onto the narrow ways ground
where it leaves rippling pools
that passing lighthearted
souls drink from with graceful hearts
there is no disquiet here
only the mysteries of loving kindness
in which we swim forever blissful
at the end of the narrow way
a castle made of dreams
where stout men stand silent guard
protecting innocence
and providing comfort to the
broken hearted
such are the dreams that fill
my soul while I sleep blissfully in
my sweet lover's arms
my heart in her tender hands

Little girl, your deepest fears have
Nothing on me.
Speak to me of your angst;
It's a miniscule bug to my foot.

Our pathetic misunderstandings
Are egos fighting the memories of
Each other in themselves.
Love is ***** and diamonds.

I love you prematurely when I
Sense spring on your
Skin. It turns me on beyond myself.
So let's just argue,

If that makes you feel as alive as you
Should beneath the hands of my
Unshared attention.
Little girl, your fears have nothing

On me.
I eat insecurity like sushi, wasabi
Memories of idiots telling you
You were never meant to write or

Be written of.
Grab yesterdays with the sticks of
Now-man's hands  
And toss them over your shoulder

Like salt after some you spilled.
Your deepest fear is as shallow
As a puddle.
I've shouldered ten times your

Weight, without love.
Watch me now.
You need not set a foot.
I carry you like the sky its stars.

A box of prescription drugs on my table.
It holds your name. Stating what is wrong with you.
Flaunting the details of where your body is
Failing.

You notice the hair on my pillow.
Shame.
Worried looks.
Anger.
I find none of it in your eyes.
You buy me razors.
"Do you need any help?" you ask.

Kisses on my bald scalp.
Beauty. Now we match even
Better.

Some of our scars join up
Like ink lines on two torn
Parts of a treasure map.

My heart asks hers:  
"You wouldn't happen to
Carry the other half of

This medallion?"
Oh, this new love between
Old souls.

We embrace the mortality
Of infatuation, and our flirtations
With Death,

Our ancient, common friend.
Live every day together like we
Did our first one,

Each one apart as if it's the last.
Yes, we'll lose each other.
But let's wait a while,

While my bad heart and your
Cells that always will carry the
Threat of relapse

Save the last,
Beautiful dance for
Each other.

Some of our
Scars line up
Perfectly.

They've taken us
This far, adventurer.
I know your legs aren't tired

Yet.

I give her the blueprints to
My Death Star, and reaching
The core of my love is as easy
As bulls-eying womp rats in
Her T-16 back home; not much
More than two metres
From my heart.

Her eyes are the exact shade of
Force that an Ilum Crystal
Powering a light sabre
Emits when ignited,
And her hands can choke a
Weak man from a hundred
Imperial Standard Yards

Away. She's Leia to my Solo,
And the Vader tattoo on the
Back of her leg
Stares at me when she tip-toes
Past me, shower fresh and
Towel-less, inviting me over
To the Dark Side

Of sci-fi, *** and rock'n roll,
And I know from the
Bottom of my everything of
Everythings that she is
Indeed the *******
Droid I've been
Looking for.

The huge bird tattoo on her  
Back burns like lazers when
Her skin gets warm,

And I, a human radiator
Favouring a sub-zero bedroom
And thin covers not to

Burn an imprint of myself upon
The sheets,
Massage heavy lotion onto her

Cringing canvas, occasionally
Kissing that phoenix rising from
The ashes of her history of

Colder lovers.

We met as two broken vases
Holding the brittle remains of
Roses never received.
Bruised and scarred, one from
Thinking love is pain, one
From finally seeing that it
Isn't.

Colliding drunk drivers on an
Empty Lover's Lane, both
Alternating between the roles of
Victim and rescue worker,
Mouth-to-mouth and chest
Compressions;
Caresses.

Blue eyes blue lights,
The taste of the blood of the other
As comforting a comfort as any to
Any parched vampire.
We leave the scene as we have
Many: Covered in type O negative  
And hope.

Foot tapping on waiting room
Linoleum with the pace of test
Result nervousness.

Scent of mostly bad news
Layered on walls in dire need
Of paint and less tasteless

Decor.
Her name is a shot fired at
The shield surrounding her

Continous playback of worst
Case scenarios as her hand meets
That of the doctor

Whose eyes give less than
Nothing away.
Please sit down.

Sink like shards of shattered
Hearts, or float for decades in
Love with the worried man

Awaiting the same news with
Unsteady workman's hands
Around a ***** phone.

It vibrates, and the Doomsday
Clock in his chest skips ticks
And tocks, approaching a

Schrödinger's midnight or noon.
I'm in remission, she whispers.
Then nothing.

Nothing but two unison breaths
Carried across an umbilical
Cord connecting souls that just

Lost their full
Amount of
Weight.

This is Relief.
This is Sunrise;
Spring.

You breathe, then I.

Every crack in the pavement
Is a chasm dividing myself
From the loveless life I
Cherished.

Facebook relationship status
It's uncomplicated.
It still is, but the butterflies in
My stomach have

Butterflies in theirs, and I
Carry flowers like a grave
Hiding the remains of my
Plans to see the year through as

A single man.
You breathe, then I.
You touch my face, then I
Yours.

My hands hold your scents
For hours.
You breathe.
I breathe.

You sleep, then I.

Eyes like two suns I stare
Directly into without blinking.
A TV I sit too close to while
Watching myself fall and fall and

Fall.
I drop to the ground. Then you,
And my arms are jungles, my arms
Are oceans, my arms are a

Bed or a bouncing castle beneath
You.
We don't fall in love.
We fly.

Why does rain smell?
How come leaves make that
Crunching sound when walked
Upon in autumn? That
Great October Sound.

We love seconds and minutes.
Hours and days are for the
Weak,
Weeks and years for the
Hopeless romantics.

Nothing hopeless
About our romance.
We just shut up and take it in.
Love? Photo album in words?
Yes.

We know it.
It's like laughing when her
Dog Shelby
Kisses me, and I kiss her back,
Wet snout and all,

And she carries that kiss to her
Owner;  
So beautiful by the mirror,
Asking me:
Should I wear the black or the

Purple dress? and I lean back
And enjoy her trying them
On.
We are the Moment People.
We snapshot microseconds

And capture them
Like this.
This is why we're poets.
We help them remember.
We write for the ones we love.