to observe the observer
is to love and to serve her

as her bottom lip secedes from the top,
i still my thoughts til they stop

To belong to the observer
is to long observe her

It is to experience her analysis,
brushing her hair in wait for her synthesis

Covered in logic and reason
her critique or thought comes out
and though it can bring painful change in season
hearing it is the only righteous route

To listen to the observer
is to be challenged by her

to take her challenge is to listen with humble ears
to take her challenge is to gain wisdom for years

This is what it means to love and to hold her
to observe my beautiful, sweet observer

I've been having conversations with you. Without your permission again.
I've been growing comfortable with you.
Occupying my thoughts.
Your smile. Your smile. Your smile.
Is what little you left me with.
I ration them for days when this city is cruel.
When memories laugh and call me a bad joke.
Sometimes I wish there was a punchline.

i'm selfish,
for wanting the eyes of everyone i met
or have yet to meet
to be only on me.

i'm selfish,
i don't want others to rise
because i know it will mark my fall.

i'm selfish,
i know.

but aren't we all?

mouths
clamped shut
for fear of
humiliation

a brain that pops
with thoughts
unprojected

the solidness
of being
threatened
with destruction
by unbelieved
proclamations
of truth

this world
   our world
      your world
faced with
predictions
of destruction
because leaders
chose to follow
and followers
chose
a zipped
upper lip.

We don't do that romantic ****,
He said ,
Because we're not lovers, just friends,
But darling, oh,
I romanticize you every day

Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,--
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,--
They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.

If my Valentine you won't be,
I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.