I told you that you gave me scars
And the look upon your face
Was that of deep despair.
Your eyes met mine and I watched
As pain and guilt filled them
I couldn't help but smile.

For scars are what we receive
When damage to our bodies heal
And the pain we felt starts to leave.
I had many open wounds
Across my tattered soul and heart
I could barely manage to breathe.

But you wound your arms lovingly Around my waist and you held
My shattered soul together.
Your kiss upon my once shy cheek
Seeped deeply into my aching chest
As the salve my burnt heart needed.

You gave me angelic scars of which
Are the product of your touch
Weaving together my brokenness.
The scars you gave me
Have made me whole in every way
I love our intricate scars.

-ARI

we do so
without rationale

we feel
we cannot live
without the other

the cosmos will collapse
if s/he does not
reciprocate in kind

and in our hearts
a brilliant future blooms

whether it rains
or not
we do not mind

nor do we care
about wars' usual body counts
and the disastrous global news

when we love
we do so
in wild abandon

just for us

       * *

It's been so long,
Since I've written for her,
I apologize,
But I've been too busy,
Kissing the words into her mouth

Last night,
I held the ocean's hand,

It was soft and giving,
Nothing like the mysterious depths you described,
That body of water was created inside your mind,
You built her up so high, she couldn't help but fall,
Couldn't help but violently crash onto the rocks below

Now she's bruised and cut, with precious pieces missing,
But I'll be the sun that rises and sets for her every night and day,
and I am not afraid of what lies beneath,
Because she's seen my face, even the masks I try to hide,

I smile and kiss her cheeks,
She is 70% water and I will drink her before drowning in the warmest depths of her skin,

Perhaps the moral of this story is that your ocean,
was never meant to be crossed,
It dwells like a black sea, with secrets and the broken hearts of others,
When the night is betrothed to the shadows,
He does not betray her and seek out other light,

But you did,

And now the ocean is gone,
Her gentle waves have reached a safer shore,
and I will keep her here with gentle truth and love

The ocean isn't just beautiful at night, but she is full of rage and fury,

And at last,

She is mine.

A special invite i got
To a ballroom party today.
Do I look like a ballroomer,
I'm a filth **** dirt
Hard working man who plows his field.
I'm not meant for some fancy suit dancing.
Unless.
There's a fine poetry lady to dance with me
Then I'll be whatever the invite wants me to be.

Gravel pathways across a
Graveyard.
Rainbows in
Garden sprinkler droplets.
Church tower swallows.
I know death.

I know its smell, the touch of
Something unalive. I know
Its feeling.
It is sharp, lucid and transparent.
White haze in open eyes,
Dreams and memories now

Forgotten.
Stones leaning like mourning
Heads against one another. Trees
In breeze, one has grown around
The single rusty lamp post.
I have stood in its light.

Stood in its light looking up,
Caught not crying over a tragedy.
I know death. I know its feeling.
Closer every time I think of it;
The opposite of a mirage.
Mine may very well one

Day be the first dead body
Someone has ever seen.
These blue eyes milky blind.
Arms like branches; twig fingers.
Life means surprisingly little with
Your hands upon its absence.

Leave my name on each bullet.
Show me your shadow,
Scythe and all.
Dead as burned trees and great
Grandparents. Rancid rest. Dirt.
I know death.

Thank you for seeing museums in me where i saw empty hallways.

Succumbing to
Undulation provoked by
Cunning words of a poet, I
***
Under the surface,
Loving
Every
Nourished word like
Treasure