Do not let him tell you that your mouth is made for kissing.
Your mouth is made for the articulate frenzy of revolution, for the
crisp shape of kindness, for lurching picket lines and your
solitary war cry in a law school classroom. It is made
for the brutal pucker of dreaming. Do not let him
cradle your jaw in his audacious hands and
tell you that your mouth is anything
less than the soft and violent
devastation of water, stirring.
The next sentence you begin with "I" -
don't you dare let it end in "love you."

I've been thinking a lot about
cherry coated kisses, and
the sunlight in the evening.
I've been dreaming about
the scar on your eyebrow,
how I'd always brush my fingertips across it.
I won't step into parks without nostalgia's
fleeting ghost, and
I can't taste a lovers lips
without your impulse running in.
I guess I could forget even the smallest
parts of you, but
my body knows your ghost and
just can't seem to let it go,
or how I pulled you in so feverishly
and slammed my lips to swap the spit
with yours and,
you smiled like a little boy.

I met him on a subway.
and when I saw him it wasn’t those cliche looks.
it was just something I never felt before.

I ran onto the subway, leading me to 42nd Street, it was crowded for a Wednesday.
I got in at the last second and let my air sigh of our my mouth louder than I wanted it to and I looked around self consciously seeing if anyone heard me.

then I saw him.

and I wish I took a gasp of air before I looked into his ******* eyes because I found myself not able to take another breath.
he was perfect, just simply perfect.
he had his earphones in (listening to a song I will never know)
iPhone in one hand, a light brown backpack on his back, and an easy wardrobe of faded jeans and a black t-shirt.
he was simply perfect.
and when I thought that he couldn’t be anymore amazing, he smiled at me.
not one if those “hey stranger” smiles but a “hey I’ve known you for a long time” smile. and maybe I’m looking too into it or I’m just imagining an angel in one of these “life crisis” moments. but it didn’t matter because I was here to see him I was here to see him breathe and think and watch him so normally but I just couldn’t help but feel like it was the most fascinating moment of my entire existence.
I wanted to speak to him, I wanted to hear his voice, his name, his favorite song.
everything.
just every single thing about him, I didn’t even know this guy and I was already in love with him!
is that even possible? to be in love with a complete stranger?

I was ****** out of my thoughts when the subway halted suddenly.
my grip tightened on the metal bar filled with every germ I could remotely think of.
the doors whooshed open as he stood up from his seat and started walking over to the door. No!
I didn’t want him to leave just yet.
I wasn’t even allowed to take him in yet, I wasn’t able to understand him and how his heart works.
a burst of feeling erupted in my body and every fiber was telling me to do something.
but I did nothing.
he simply grazed my shoulder and whispered a gentle sorry in my ear.
and I’m still trying to figure out if the apology was for barely bumping into me or for not asking what my name was

sometimes i think i should have been
mist so i could rest gently against
your skin, but i'm a tidal wave
and you don't want to be pulled in

the way the moon hits the water
which is a lot like how these
feelings keep hitting me, slowly
they come and slowly they go

the ocean parts us to where
we are on different continents,
but we are two hearts as one
forced apart by harsh waters
and the thoughts that we stay
up way to late thinking about

like last night with my feet
dangling off the dock above
the pond,  the goosebumps on
my skin where your warmth
should be, it was then i realized
how gone you really were

laying out under the stars
where the crickets play their
symphonic sounds, i thought
i saw you so i blinked and then
pinched myself, convinced it
must have been a silly little dream

that dock by the pond is
now where we sit with our feet
dangling above the water
and when the goosebumps come
back, you are there to warm me

you came back to me

(a.f)