I won’t make the same mistake.
     Not again.
               I won’t let this slip away.
     Not like last time.
          Failing to realize what I could have
                                                                      become.
                                        What we could have been.
But that was a different place,
                      a different time.
I cannot take the wonderings,
                       the what if’s,
                       the uncountable dreams,
                         of what could be.
Because I don’t love her like I loved you.
          But I’m willing to try.
     Even for a month.
               Or less.
          But I cannot try.
                    I may have failed,
                          100 times before this.
But if I, if we, succeed.
          Then it all would be worth it.
     Because I am not a coward.
          I am whatever I deem myself worthy.
And I deserve this.
And I deem myself worthy of courage.
But most of all.
          I not only want you.
     I need you.
And this time.
          You will know.

I met an angel,
     last night.
  She was crying.
         Not for herself.
But those she cared for.
     Why must you cry?
For someone so
          beautiful,
never should shed such a
               powerful water.
     No man under the sun
          deserves you.
For even if you
     don’t believe it,
          you are an angel.
And you’ll
     never know how
                    honored I am
          to have you as
               a friend.
Never allow
     someone to tell you
          otherwise.
     For you are,
          beautiful,
          wonderful,
          amazing,
          and most of all...
               the greatest friend I could
                    and will ever have.
And (you’ll probably never know this)
          I love you.

I often wonder,
      how
            your hair smells,
            your skin against mine,
            your head resting on my rising chest,
            your heart beating with mine,
                  in the morning next to me.
Would you smile?
Would you make eye contact?
Would you kiss me?
Would you be there?
      When I’d wake up next to you.
Would
            We be tangled up,
                  on your bed (or mine),
                        together like one.
            When we’d get up,
                  I’d make us breakfast
                        or lunch.
            You’d stand behind me,
                  afraid I’d burn it,
                        with your arms around me.
            I would concentrate on cooking,
                  but you’d try so hard to distract me
                        when I’d turn away from the stove.
Maybe.
We wouldn’t.
Because.
I’d wonder.
I’d dream.

The first dictator,
      the founder.
The blood of a would be
      god.
But all this mighty knowledge
      is meaningless.
With you here.
      And me in Roma,
            44 B.C.
But I am here.
      Next to you,
            and you’ll never know.
How I think about the
      war in my mind
            with the space
between you and me.
But thus is my curse.
      Stuck at the strategy table.
            Moving the dark pieces in an
                  attempt to bring
you
    closer
to         me.
I wish I was Caesar,
            or Augustus,
                  or Alexander.
So my battle plans
      could be as sound,
      could be as powerful,
      could be as triumphant.
So I could conquer this intolerable space.
      To touch your face,
      To kiss your lips,
      To press my body against yours,
      To feel our hearts touch.
But it will never happen.
      For fortune favors the bold.
            And I like Cassius:
                  I am a coward.
But maybe one day
      I’ll be Caesar.
            And you’ll be mine.

Do it for me,
     God,
do it for me.
     The lost lamb,
     the prodigal son,
     the sleeping servant.
Do it for the wrong,
     in my life,
          that I’ve caused,
          that I created,
          that I regret.
Do it for the right,
     the smiles,
     the laughs,
     the advice.
Help him,
     be what he needs.
Help her,
     understand what he is.
Take away all the good in mine,
so they can have something I will...
     Never.
Give them peace.
Give them love.
Give them each other.
     If you can do that.
Maybe then...
     I will have served a purpose.
     I will have been a bringer of life.
     I will have understood.
Maybe then...
          I will be free.

She was built,
shorter than the other buildings,
     but stands just as tall.
She was designed to be
     thinner,
     as it would just fit.
Her long winding curves,
     stretching lusciously
          into the great blue sky.
Sabatino,
     or what I like to,
          call her:
               Kelsey.
Her smile a grin
     of reflective bright
          sunlight.
This was how she was modeled,
     crafted with the finest:
          Marble,
          Steel,
          Wood,
          and Stone.
As if Michelangelo
     or Da Vinci,
came back to chisel this
     monument to beauty.
Not because they can,
because they must.
     I may walk past this building
          everyday,
on my way to work,
          coffee,
          school.
But one day,
     I will christen the lips
          of her sounding entrance.
That day I
     will be as tall as her.
A titan of concrete,
     of steel.
A titan that controls my
          imagination,
          time,
and heart.

I just know
I am mad
crazy
daft
trying so
hard
to understand
the whole
when
I should just
care about
the details
especially
those things
that only
matter
to
my heart
and
my happiness
because
that's what really
counts
in the end