I will never stop scratching
through your rough edges
until I get in.

I’m breaking nails, baby,
and I don’t mind.

for j.e.
*110614

the world tilted
and i find
that i am exactly
at the opposite end
of where i was yesterday.

there was silence
between us
and spaces
and gaps
and infinities
yet to be realized.

now,
i am here somersaulting
with the sound
of your voice
as i drift off to sleep,
and again waking up
to the sweet sound
of promises unspoken.

when yesterday
i cannot find
where my spot is
in the map
of your heart,
here i am
at the x
marking exactly
where your whole being
is held together.

you have brought me
to various peaks and depths
of euphoria and melancholy,
and i am sure
i can only be called crazy
for wanting to be where i am.

when you come home,
remember:
x marks this spot, baby.
i am here,
exactly where i
have chosen to be.

for j.e.
*102514

my thoughts are always best expressed in verses,
and you are the lines
that make them up.

your name is never scribbled across the page,
but you are there in the kerning,
the sensible spaces in between.

you are the punctuation marks,
the pauses and the stops,
the stresses in my ideas.

don’t you ever get frustrated
that i have exploited your memories
into fragments of ellipsied affection?

i am guilty of making you my poetry,
of enveloping you in metaphors
and keeping you close to my heart.

out of the trickles of us,
i have spawned an infinite stream
of feels pooling into poems.

i have always wondered
if you have ever read me
and guessed that i was about you.

tell me if you have,
because if you haven’t guessed yet,
i’ll phrase my poems in equations instead.

for j.e.
*081214

you and me, mem’ries
i can’t even begin to
decipher. i sigh.

for j,e.
*081514

you have made it clear:
“let go of me.”
so let go i did.
request granted.

permit me this now -
to write you unmasked.
without coyness
nor shadow of pretense,
i scribble this about you:

once,
i have refused
to envelope
your memories
with fantasies,
not wanting
to mix them up.

now, though,
frustrated by reality
i have allowed
my imagination
to take its own course -  
your lips yielding against mine,
my hands trembling
as it seeks your chest,
my heart pulsating wildly
in tune with yours.

when once,
I have refused
to write you
in the beauty
of my dreams,
now
there is nothing left
of you
but the mirage
of hopefulness.

you are now my hero,
my muse,
the fancy
behind my poems.

you are so much more
than you used to be,
but only
because I have closed
my eyes
and allowed you
to be swallowed
by my heartbreak.

for j.e.
*100714

Handle me gently.
Mull it over in your mind
Until you find the words that match your intentions.
Say them quietly
So only I can hear.
Don't speak harshly.
Don't leave me hanging.
Don't blend into the background.
A word spoken is a word meant
So say what you mean
Because I meant what I said
And I'll say it again.
I love you times one million.
All my bad decisions were worth it
If my one right decision was you.

you are the aftertaste of coffee.
after the jumpstart,
the palpitation,
here you are,
sadly bittersweet.

you are the persisting vision
of a falling star.
its trail of light
remain before me
even after it’s long been gone.
i’ve tried to catch it
with my feeble hands,
only to grasp nothingness.

you are the aftermath
of an earthquake,
of which i found myself
at its epicenter.
even after rebuilding,
i found
that nothing is
as it was.

you are the tune
that keeps playing
over and over again
inside my head.
i’ve being lss-ing
over your memories,
singing a song
i’m not sure
if i’ll ever hear again.

you are an aftertaste,
a persisting vision,
an aftermath,
an lss
that i wrap around myself,
holding me together,
keeping me from falling apart.

for j.e.
*100314

The words I can’t say to you are
climbing up my throat
I keep forgetting to breathe
I miss your hands.

Do not speak, love.
Hold your peace.
Keep your silence.

Listen.
Listen.
Listen.

Do you hear it –
The lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub?
Tell me.
Do you hear it?

I’ve been trying
To silence it,
Muffle it with poetry,
But it is there.

Lub-dub, lub dub, lub-dub.

It won’t stop.
It won’t stop…
It won’t stop!

It’s right here.
Right here!
in my center,
at my core!

Lub-dub, lub dub, lub-dub.
It won’t keep quiet!
Lub-dub, lub dub, lub-dub.
It won’t be still!

Lub-dub, lub dub, lub-dub.
Lub-dub, lub dub, lub-dub.
Lub-dub, lub dub, lub-dub.

Be still, love,
Be still.
Be still!

Do not speak, love.
Hold your peace.
Keep your silence.
Listen.
Listen.
Listen.

Do you hear it –
The lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub?
Tell me.
Do you hear it?
Listen!
Why won't you hear?

for j.e.
*100114

wrong move.
wrong move.
wrong move.
that picture.
that smile.
those hands.
those hands.
those hands.
my heart.
those memories.
those hands.
my heart.
those hands.
memories.
hands.
heart.
wrong move.
wrong move.
that picture.
wrong move.
my heart.
those memories.
that smile.
those hands.
those hands.
those hands.

for j.e.
*093014

i panicked when you were nowhere in sight
not before me, nor behind me.
i searched for you in my room,
but you were not in my boxes,
nor in my keepsakes.
i opened well-loved pages of poetry,
and all i found were decomposing petals
of long-lost reminiscence.
i searched and rummaged,
and all i found of you were
bits and traces of a presence
not yet even pieced together.

who you are for me
cannot be contained
by a box, a page of verses,
a tumbler, or a photograph,
but those were all i have of you.

how can someone of such gravity
be for me so limited in presence?

for a moment,
i had to fight the urge to believe
i only made you up.
the voice that lulled me to sleep
one starry night –
could it possibly be a dream?
were those big hands
that never failed to grasp mine
mere imagination?
those eyes, that smile,
are they but a compound
of so many other eyes and smiles?

oh how easily i forget,
you exist apart from my memories!
your voice, your hands
are not dependent on my ability to feel nor hear.
my verses cannot summon you,
nor can their absence limit who you are.
i do not need to remember you
for you to be there.
neither should my heart beat
for you to be loved.

you are your own,
capable of storing your own keepsakes
and pressed petals.
should you choose to,
those big hands can take hold
of any other hand.
you can choose to gift anyone
with the beauty of your smile
or of your song.
and i need not be the object
of your affection
for your own heart to beat wildly
against your chest.

you are
even if we’re not.
i am
apart from you.
you will always be you
even if i was not in the equation,
and I will always be me
even if you are not the object
of my metaphors.

for j.e.
*090514

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.