She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.

"Pain is inevitable", she whispered

"But suffering is optional", I countered.

"Forever?" she whispered.

I closed my eyes and held the bridge of my nose.
I sighed, "I don't believe in forever"

She gasped, 
"You don't?", her eyes became watery

"The concept of forever scares me, The idea of looking deep into your eyes and prophesying forever only for it to not be forever", I cleared my throat.
"I don't want put us both in an emotional disaster, I'm not about building ourselves only to be the main destruction of this utopia"
"I love you in a way that I have never loved anyone, you're my first"
"My first kiss, my first spark, my first intensified butterflies, my first everything, I can't let a promise of forever get in the way of that, I won't and I'm sorry but I can't promise you a forever, I love you too much to sell each other dreams" I sigh

"I lost my best friends to a forever, The first one committed suicide and I don't know what happened to Rhea, she's closed off, she's gone, she's all ****** up and here I am recovering from the worst kind of pain because I found you", I sniffed, clearing my throat to force the silent whimpers down. 

"I'm not ready for a forever", I bowed my head.

"I'm not ready to lose you", I whispered

Sipping from the silent Moon
I drink the nectar of lovers
a glance into the glass sea
I dive into forever
a dream of another place
takes hold of my hand
leading me to pure crystal
the Moon pulls me closer
and the sea cradles us both

Poetry like a raging river
Dividing and reuniting
Around rocks as if
Nothing.

Some sentences make me want
To touch each word, feeling  
The braille soul-matter
Beneath each pixel.

Norwegian sun on rooftopped
Reader; beads of sweat fall on
My touch screen
That I

Wipe off carefully in order
To read
Just one
More.

May the same sun warm the
Core of your poet's soul.
May none of the stars
On your night sky of

Creativity
Ever
Even
Fade.