Maybe this doesn't matter at all
Especially because the way I may have treated you,
and maybe you'll never even see this,
but if you do,
I think that you should know some things.
I beat myself up a lot.
Fully responsible for the pain that you endured.
I think about you
outside
in the rain
in the gutter.
I notice you. Constantly.
In the back of my mind.
Something completely beautiful.
There's something gorgeous about the way the rain hides your tears.
About the way you look with wet hair.
I constantly want to go outside
and bring you in
and make you soup
and cocoa
and tea.
I want to help you get undressed
and dry you off,
changing into something,
soft and warm.
Safe.
I'll wrap you in a towel
and wrap you in my arms.
Tracing your figure gently,
like the road going home.
We'll construct a blanket fort.
And it'll be our secret castle.
Away from the world.
I see you shrinking.
I know that you are.
But maybe we could shrink down together
and make our fort an entire estate;
where I can make a memory with you
in each achre.
And when it gets cold,
we can scrimp and save,
and rent a dollhouse
for our summer home.
You wont have to worry
about other people seeing you sweat.
We'll close the blinds and draw the curtains
and stay naked-
vulnerable.
A place of our own creation.
You and me.
I think about the things we shared.
The late nights.
The secrets.
I always wonder how you are.
I long for you.
I crave your words like I crave
the nicotine, or the alchohol, or the abuse
that I need in order to
keep my thoughts off of you.
Sometimes I still think about it
because I'm crazy
and unfair-
jumping on a plane, I mean-
to expect you to be waiting for me on the other side.
I think about you all the time. Whether you believe me or not.
Or whatever you choose.
I dwell on you. I haven't stopped.
Like a near death experience.
The only thing that's ever really made me feel alive.
Completely whole.
******* I think about  you all the time.
Forbidden fruit. Something I shouldn't be reaching out for.
I want to dress your wounds.
Take care of you when you fall.
Douse you in antiseptic
wrap your bandages
and seal each cut with a kiss.
I haven't stopped thinking about you at all.
There is something about the way your heart makes my heart flutter.
And the way your soul speaks beautiful perfect poetry to mine.
I'd also be a liar if I said I didn't think about staring into your eyes, or the way you smell like lilacs and honey, or the peaches and cream of your skin.
My favorite dessert.
Something that I indulge in.
I want to taste you.
Every last drop.
Warm saltwater
lemon juice,
birthday cake
life giving nectar.
I've held my lips against a rose petal,
unconsciously,
wishing it were you.
Dying for the real thing.
I miss your voice. A sweet song.
Deep lulliby.
The most humbling thing I've ever heard.
Thunder
the roar of the ocean
harsh winds
butterfly wings
bubbling brooks
gentle rains.
Perfection.
I long for you with my whole being,
and whether it means anything to you or not,
I still thought that you should know.

From: me@present.now
To: you@future.me
Cc: all@hellopoetry.com
Subject: Questions

Dear You,

You surely know
That you are not
Unique...
Do you?

You always act
As if you were
Alone...
Are you?

How many times
You thought you’re right,
And weren’t?
You learned?

Why do you think
That time will change
You while
You don’t?

How many years
You think you've got?
Much left?

Then why you act
As if life will
Go on,
Forever?

Best,
Me.

So many lines and laments
scribed in ink and feeling,
for the girl who is the ocean

but she is a swell and surge
too dauntless and wild,
for a lover whose bones crave the shore.

She craves the squalls and gusts,
and cast iron skies,
a worldly drift to sate the salt in her skin,
the deep pull of currents in her blood.

She is chaotic but not reckless,
she is fickle, but not feckless.
Love her boldly or not at all
her bones belong to the sea
but she will always return to the shore.

A mistress of her space
She moves,
with the airy grace
of a dancer.
No effort spared;
no gesture wasted
Choreographing breakfast
In her roadside trailer-cafe .


7th April 2017

You collect your tears in a bell jar
for the day you run dry
you roll your memories over until they are smooth
like pie dough
you grapple with the inevitable
often afraid to move
so as not to awaken death
but listen to me, my friend
you have conquered life to reach this point
you have bathed in the sanctity of passion
and conjured imaginary places
while in the bliss of the finest music
you have beamed like the Sun
at the instant of creating new life
and turned numb with agony at the moment
of losing one so close
you have managed to elude the stones thrown your way
and graciously recover from the throws of failure
you have survived
do not fear or run from your impending leave
your mark is of tremendous value and expanse
to human kind
your love has healed and brought joy
your creations are you
and will continue to thrive in your name

embrace these days
be cleansed in your life's history
revel in your time

Tell mama,
I'll be alright,
I'll do my best,
Keep my eye on the prize,

Tell mama,
I'll never let go,
Even when no one is there,
I'll do it on my own,

Tell mama,
I still dream the dream,
I won't let anything
come in between,

Tell mama,
To be proud and happy as she can be,
Tell mama,
I still got some fight in me,