I remember,
every corner of the streets
we used to walk together
holding hands,
where the loveliest colors
are ever painted
within your smiles.

I remember,
the rain which elucidates
the resemblance of truth
and of love,
and all of my attention
is drawn to wondering,
how long will you stay
by my side.

I remember,
how your sweet lips invite;
our first kiss defines
every moment for which
I always realize that I am safe
whenever you are
close to me.

I remember,
those romantic nights
when your body lay
next to mine,
and the moon captivated
our souls, to descry
every beautiful scenery
of a once paradise;
then we talked
about the future.

But a night for which
my heart still remembers,
is when you looked me
in the eyes,
and said the first...

'I LOVE YOU'

I know we've just met,
so don't take this too seriously,
but there's something I must confess:
Sometimes when I see you,
my heart does a flip,
and my muscles squeeze tight,
giving my stomach a hard hug
and taking my breath for a moment
Other times, I try my hardest to pry
my eyes away from you
they, of course, fight back,
they want to soak up the very sight of you,
so we compromise on sneaking glances,
when I think you're not looking
Still other times, I see you laughing,
flashing your smile at a friend's joke,
and I glimpse those bright white teeth
That perfect smile makes me want to smile, too,
just so we can have that one thing in common,
you and I smiling at the world
And that is why, whenever I'm around you,
I'm always sitting quietly
(because I'm trying to catch my breath),
I'm always looking away
(because I'm afraid you'll catch me staring),
and I'm always smiling like a fool
(because I think I might be falling in love with you)

When I on our wedding day,
promise and commit myself to you,
I shall say the heartfelt vow,
a worded description of how I shall live
with you, around you and in love with you,
a vow, it won't be flashy,
or excessive,
but heartfelt and a promise,
and then we can pinky-promise,
then touch thumbs,
like we did when we were younger,
"I love you My darling,
I vow to thee my life,
my strength,
My love,
My passion,
my heart,
all that I do,
shall reflect my love of two,
My father God in heaven,
And then my sweetheart,
that is you!
In every season!"
That is my vow to you my darling,
for I love you.

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

XXXVIII

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love’s own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, ‘My love, my own.’

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deny’st me is;
It ****** me first, and now ***** thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
  Yet this enjoys before it woo,
  And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
  And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w’are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
  Though use make you apt to **** me,
  Let not to that, self-****** added be,
  And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast  thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it ****** from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st and say’st that thou
Find’st not thyself, nor me the weaker now;
  ’Tis true, then learn how false fears be:
  Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
  Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her ******* are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound.
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
    And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
    As any she belied with false compare.

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.