My relation with her
inhabits a silent space,

you don't need to talk much
below the ocean's surface,

it's like a rest after your work is done
an earned breather after a long run.

Now it's holding hands and swimming together
having seen all the weather.

I am emphatically flawed.
I will make mistakes,
I'll be distant and difficult.
Things will rarely if ever,
be "perfect."
But I will always come back to you,
with a sad smile and soft voice,
and the most heartfelt of apologies.

On occasion I will be incredulous.
I'll question your actions,
and your motive.
I'll **** near border on paranoia.
But I'm easily proven wrong,
it won't take much to re-build my confidence.

I may very likely disappear,
from time to time.
I'm an enigmatic rambler,
and a vagabond.
I won't often buy you roses.
But I will show up after days in the wilderness,
with a heart full of love,
and a whiskey bottle stuffed full of wildflowers...

I close my eyes and you are all that I see

even when open
on occasion  the outline
of U
is a holographic letter
a word imprint hallucination  of you
present and on my peripheral
at the corners of my eyes in 3 -D
and on my lips,
you linger
where you never were before
my world fell down and I found you
fetal by my side.

The Moon

We are the waxen crescent feast of star shine
the poetic moon groom,
the romantic echo of sun
while it murmurs in swishing tide of peaceful sleep
each half of the heart drawn by the moonlit *****
strolling the Titanic proportionate
a two headed bobbing horizon lost at sea
could you dream of me in dune songs
whispering tomorrow dawning in summer sonnets
could you think of me possibly
when ever you gaze up at a waxing Moon.