You were the Barbie jeep engineer.
You were the 5-card pinochle player.
You were the gripe to do the dishes.
You were the patient mall bench sitter.

You were Elvis Presley records and
paper backed crime novels.
You were my new antivirus software.
You were the chatter in the middle of an
NCIS episode.
You were the "It's okay, sweetie" on the
other end of the phone.

You were the voice of every bathtime storybook.
You were the baking soda on my first wasp sting.
You were the green Ford Escort parked
outside my middle school every afternoon.

You were the loudest clap at my graduation.
You were the sticky caramel corn crumbs in the
living room that held the place together.
You were the laughter

You were the toolkit when my pictures hung crooked.
You were the cornerback baker, the pecan pie maker,
dance recital seat saver and the road trip driver.
You were the puppy-dog pill-giver and the
broken heart mender.

You were the church goer and the goodness seeker.
You were the black-haired teaser and the
very best secret keeper.
You were a prideful wig wearer and
wheelchair rider.

You were a cancer fighter.

You were my first call.
You still are.

A moon disc moves around in space,
beaming white with shades of time
as the pupil of a cosmic eye,
an aperture of the mind.
Its clouded iris billows,
evolving mountains in the sky
as textured fields of cirrostratus
caressing what's divine.
There's a copper sclera of diffraction,
as concentric rings of luminescence
enjoy, for tonight, partaking of this essence.

Do the pinewood teeth serrating mountains
not speak for want of a tongue?
I know they sigh sometimes with longing
when they're moved before a gale.
I hear your storm has started calling,
as the wind whispers me your tale.
The rain's a heavy harmony,
strumming straight on panes of glass,
and those rivulets of running water
walk patience to the brink
as the eddies of a circling mind
whirl cogs which make me think:

*I see your face in scattered strangers,
your form behind the rippling of skirts.
I hope your restlessness will soothe itself
and you feel at home, here on this earth.

can I crown you with my love?
it won't be the crown of scarlet i've worn before
it won't be covered in blood, or shadows of bathroom mirrors
or evenings left alone under street lamps
it won’t be made from fear
it won't dig into your flesh
it won't ,and i hope, make you cry
no it will be none of those things
it will be made from lovely things
like flowers from spring
light pink
lavender purple
and pale blue
to show i care for you
it will be made from the gleam found in the highs of a night sky
the cool silver light
that reflects in wide eyes
it will be made from golden afternoons
stuck in rooms that don't feel lonely cause i'm with you
it will be made from the first snow
the pure white that makes everything glow
it will be made from the peacefulness of evening
that are filled with sleepy breathing
it will be made from a warm cup of tea
when you're sick
it will be made from cozy sweaters
in a million colors
it will be made from letters and post cards
to keep us together even tho we're so far
it will be made from a blushed face
and a heart you've made race
it will be made from badly poached eggs
and bacon burnt black and red
it will be made from little origami cranes
that will hang in the air by colorful chains
it will be made from tightly held hands
and nervously made plans
it will be made from a silent phone call
as you fall
into sleep
it will be made from a soft kiss
and pressed in hips
it will be made from bad poems
that lack rhythm and rhyme
it will be made from band-aids
that keep the blood away
my crown of love to you will be made from all these things
and a million more.

Say my name
Say it gently
Use your words
To caress me
Speak your thoughts
Speak them out loud
Confess your love
Amidst the crowd
Scream your wishes
Scream your dreams
Make your reality
Better than it seems
Whisper your pain
Whisper your fears
Release the tension
Wipe away your tears
Open your mind
Open up wide
Let my love in
Let me inside