Lay your hands on me
heal my inner scars
that I may know your touch
and feel your love...

Lay your hands on me
read my auras pain
that I may know the feel
of one whom cares...

Lay your hands on me
touch deeper than skin
that I may know the depth
you understand...

Lay my hands on you
cradling your  sweet smile
that I may know the taste
of such warm lips...

Lay my hands on you
pulling you closer
that I may know the warmth
of your body...

Lay your hand in mine
hold tight forever
that I may know for sure
I really touched you.

i need to start falling in love
less often.
stop idolizing every brave girl
who shows me the part of her skin
that rarely sees the sun &
waits patiently for my response………..
…..& i always inflate her ego
like a carnival balloon,
& in the coming weeks
i twist it into different animals.
a lion when i'm lonely,
a mouse to mimic misery,
but one day when i'm twisting up
the closed fists of some
metaphor of a memory
it pops & she's suddenly aware
of the clown.

but love is a dish best served
not at all.
skip the meal
& lose the weight of love
& the world seems so much bigger
& instantly you fit into places
you had never even tried before.
the feet that used to make those
distinct etchings in mud
like a tiny topographical map,
hauling that love around
like a bowling ball in a backpack,
those feet don't even touch the trees anymore
& the clouds envy your freedom
as they whisper pick up lines to the moon.

when I talk
with you
only you

will you allow me to go in circles
beat myself up
cry my heart out till its all gone
and only you will be standing there
telling me to go have fun

when you are upset
i take you by the hand
we walk and we talk and
I try to make you feel better

You are perpetually there for me
Endlessly.

What is the shape of silence,
the vibration of stillness,
the contour of peace?

A gentle tempest stormed my lawn; it stood
me still and then was gone. Anchored,
awestruck in my place by beauty and euphoric
grace, I thought of Spinoza's God, infinity's
precise design, the perfect math of Everything –
our love, a quotient of Divine.

It was the silver, heart-enveloping view
Of the mysterious sea-line far away,
Seen only on a gleaming gold-white day,
That made it dear and beautiful to you.

And Laura loved it for the little hill,
Where the quartz sparkled fire, barren and dun,
Whence in the shadow of the dying sun,
She contemplated Hallow's wooden mill.

While Danny liked the sheltering high grass,
In which he lay upon a clear dry night,
To hear and see, screened skilfully from sight,
The happy lovers of the valley pass.

But oh! I loved it for the big round moon
That swung out of the clouds and swooned aloft,
Burning with passion, gloriously soft,
Lighting the purple flowers of fragrant June.