I wish I could
Package each and every single adjective that I have used to describe you thus far
And send them to you individually
So that you could have enough pieces
To make a portrait
Big enough to cover the entire night sky
Not missing an inch
So you could marvel at it the way I do
When you’re feeling down
And if it does nothing else
I hope it makes you smile
The way I do
When I’m down
I know I’m not a healer, and theres nothing I can fix
But I am a writer
So I’d like to give you this



I’ve dug deep inside myself and found pieces of you buried in the depths of my heart
Places I’ve never known
Places I want to discover



It’s funny cause
I’ve started and ended this poem about 34 times.
Today.
Alone.
I won’t address the other days.
This is a simple one...

I wonder if the lead in my pencil gets excited when I begin to write your name.

Sometimes, I’m jealous that it’s gotten to touch you before I have.

What’s sad is that
I’m deeper than every seed you’ve ever sown
Planted in you
Yet we never seem to grow
And I could write you ten thousand novels
About how we’re meant to be
I could swim to the bottom of the
Deep blue sea
And you still wouldn’t see
That it’s supposed to be me
That I’m supposed to say oui
Trying to turn a boy into a man
I find myself on bended knee
-----------------------------------------
Sunsets and swing sets
Wearing our Sunday’s best
Taking a deep Sunday snooze
After both being blessed
But I cannot rest
I must confess
I cannot stress it enough
I have been tested enough
I know I’m coming off strong
But I don’t mean to be rough
It’s just
It’s just
It’s just
I don’t know what to do with the tears anymore
Besides bottle them up
And use them to water
Every seed you’ve ever sown
In the garden of our love,
Maybe one day
We’ll grow
Maybe one day your soul
Will reach mine in eternity
Finally joining hand in hand
To plant itself in a soil so fertile
That people will be forced to call our love
The promised land

the clanking
of the radiator
the only sound

except her breaths
which she counts, as if
she knows the finite number
until her last

her coffee cold;
in it she sees the night
from which she came:
the blind, deaf walkers,
the fuming taxis she left
in the square streets

her eyes well
with the last drops
of the last light
of the last star
in her galaxy
of loss

only one tear falls
into her cradled cup
where it vanishes into
the indifferent sea

she sups it slowly
back inside, where night belongs
but never stays

I uncap my pen in sheer expectation of the thoughts that I have of you to free themselves from the confines of my mind.

I want to write you.
I want to write to you.
I want to write about you.

I think I'm ready.

God's best construction to date was the pathway that led me to you. I am so thankful for the rugged pavement turned yellow brick road that led me to the comfort of your heart made of gold.

I want to learn you.
I want to memorize you.
I want to feel you.

I think I'm ready.

At your peak, you are grace. Full of forgiveness and mercy. At your plateau you are love, consistent and steady.

I want to hold you.
I want to know you.
I want to love you.

I am ready.

I stood on the pill gray surface of a moon with my eyes closed against the pitch. Deafening silence encaptulates me swallowing every cell as I sit cross legged in the stomach of it. I felt her. The pump of her heartbeat colossal in the deep. I dissolve and recoagulate 20 trillion kilometers from her belly. White dwarf her ultraviolet laughter washes over me charring me black. Just beyond the speed of light I fight the cold vacuum spiraling  through fathomless rings of planet sized asteroids she has caught within her gravity. I accelerate through her categorizing every element naming some as I go. Her molten core flows pure silver. Radioactive, attractive in totality, she is stealing my electrons and I'm losing all equilibrium. With reckless abandon I arc through her nitrogen ice eyelashes and lips play supernova melting me again into a pool of shimmering metal reflecting her every facet fractaling in infinitum Eye couldn't capture unable to dilate in time. The mind could not comprehend it driving to madness decompressing time. Switching polarity with her smile I float awhile in her warmth basking in total integration. Resting on the glaciers of her clavicles. I run my lips on the molten surface of her neck, and my hands found the small of her back marble smooth in the bitter black. Hair of plasma on obsidian shoulders cradling me as I reform. Her finger  like Olympus Mans presses into my arm and she says something that I could not reproduce even after infinities of calculation. In this brand new mode she runs like code. Strands of proteins or DNA playing over mine becoming prime. The restorative gravity that brought us pulls atomicly until we are not.