i have never wanted to be so good to someone.
i could trace the outline of your fingernails onto my faced up palms as we
reached for each other,
slipping my thoughts into your back pocket,
and you'll hold me like a golden locket as
we climbed tree limbs into the heavy august air
to tangle our own until
the light turned us free,
like the spotlight on the faces of my
old high school choir -
my vocal cords were ready to bust at the
seams,
i just wanted to be heard and
you had the finest of skills in listening.
i could talk in miles or
explain in knots,
but the options were endless.
i chose to keep my tongue hidden,
as i feathered my lips on your unforgiven
past, not least but last,
the scars following your
arm.
i could see the matches
that burned
each thought on your elbows,
the love you misplaced
when no one gave you the
thumbs up or the acceptance letter,
that held back and pushed to
your toes.
circulate it,
and pump it through
your bones.
it will destroy the blame and
dispassionate habits,
like the way things hurt
and the anger towards the less than
pleased family who only suffer
because of their reputable
finished paintings might have
some water damage from
the storms.

i want prove that there is good in
the beggars and the pleasers.
there is compassion in the corners
and valleys of the longest of
highways.
it might be a far stretch,
but you gotta believe there's more than
just road signs telling you
where to go
and
people who can't love
anyone other
than themselves.
because even the lost ones
need love, too.

i forgot how blue your eyes were.
it's as if you used food coloring to enhance them,
and i don't know if that's true,
but they speak of cold breezes and tired days.
i could see the life inside of them,
struggling, juggling,
things weren't always so sick.
i could feel the color pulse,
as if your heart, (that is larger than the one
in "how the Grinch stole Christmas")
took turns with your grandfather's clock
hanging on the tobacco-ashed walls.
the depth of what you've done, i cannot compare with
a yard stick or the years i
cried for myself, over
the river and through the woods,
there was always another one waiting to take me.
you have something i wish i had,
strength to recover from the battles
on the sidewalks and needles filled with glory
and traces of your own blood.
the iceberg blue from your eye sockets are different from your veins.
crystalline. bright.
and if i could i'd take it all away, the desire
nagging at your fingertips and the
monkey
on your back.
but since i can't,
take each marble of faith and
save it for the rainy days
and rundown shading nights,
the minutes you need it most.

but don't forget to forgive yourself.

i was never right about you.
instead of questioning my motives,
i should have been questioning yours.
i should have, would have, could have,
it's never gonna change.

so why the hell am i still
caught up into you
when you are tangled free.

i'm wire walking from my museum to
the day i will cross over to our
smooth talked ******* and our late night
forget-me-nots.
wait, forget the nots (knots, rather.)
you knew the aches i woke up to,
i have never dressed so quickly before.

i found a scratch on my spine in the shape of a heart,
and i read into it with fortune tellers' eyes.
it meant that you still cared.

your body was the sea,
and i was the ship that wrecked in violent waves of rolling hills
and i finally found the path that led me to the explosions in the sky.
and they were so beautiful, but it wasn't the same without you.
i heard the orchestra build its wall of strings tying up the moon,
kind of like how i am ******* to you.
i saw the flickering of the stars, as though they were dimming
right before my touch -
like a heart skips a beat,
like the gas price jumps,
and the occasional glow
of a person you know
that has
stumbled
over love,
jumped over buildings to reach it.
and here it is,
velvet in my hands,
eroded like the skylines of ancient cities,
beggars grateful for a sip of water,
trees speaking to enriched soils,
with each bright light,
it shines a little more each day
until it is four million blinding suns.
and here it is,
in war zones and over your salty body,
flying kites and airplanes in
a game of tag -
you're it.
i almost blistered my fingertips,
i forgot how the skin could be so protective
like a barrier against
all bitterness, it can be shielded from
your pumping vessel.
somehow, my immunity didn't stand a chance
between your dangerous waves and
how small the north star looks from where you are.
my sails might be torn once i get through to you,
but i'm hoping the explosions above will bind this together.
the compass will tell me how far i am from the coastal lines,
the day i can finally touch the atoms
that make up a ghost,
but until then,
look up and you might see me there.

i have been trying to do some spring cleaning,
like brushing out the cobwebs in my head,
but i always get stuck in the intricate silk and the thought
that i could be something.
i could be.
with each particle, i spin a new letter that fills a
good part of my curriculum -
the ABC's of love and Compasses 101 and
intro to new culture,
just so i can prove that i'm well rounded,
like the tip of my tongue,
like the merry-go rounds,
and the pupils behind my eyelids.
i know there was always a glint of worry
radiating from my mother's
half moon smile,
daring that i won't make it.
she never wanted to curse me,
so she spoke of opposites -
opposites attract (but we both know that isn't true.)
but this isn't about her,
this is about the days and nights i gritted
the enamel off of my molars to
pull myself off the bandwagon,
i've never really been into Natural Light beer,
(some call it Nattie Light),
or the fact that not being focused is what
i should be focused on.
this is about the one night stands with
Microsoft Word and my book of notes completed
with equations i knew i could never understand.
this is about the the day
i found
i could be the person
i never thought
i would be.

we all have sorrows as deep as wells,
but i'm tossing them right out the door.
maybe this is where i shed my old skin like a cobra,
but i'm hardly as vicious.
i'm only as dangerous as you let me be,
with my bones as strong as glaciers and
my eyes could swim inside aquariums
or the Mediterranean sea,
like i have gills that could let me breathe.
i could make a home,
20,000 leagues under or i could
touch land with my sun shining shades
of affections
with the complexions of new worlds.
and did you know, that there are more stars
in our galaxies than there are particles of
sand on each coastal line -
i guess you can say we learn something valuable
when you least expect,
like how cats have one hundred vocal sounds and
we can relate because
our vocal sounds
are endless. we can use our voices.
kind of like our opportunities,
expanding like water turning to ice on our
puddles so we can walk on them without
rain boots or umbrellas that catch our tears.
instead, we wear our thickness overlapping
our feelings and
i just want to be naked.
if that leaves me vulnerable,
so be it as long as i can taste the glass half full
on my skin.

i just want to be happy.