Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.

A lot can happen in four years
I whispered while your fingers were in my hair.
The night was calling us together, time threw us in a moment
where neither of us had an answer to why you called
or why I came
to find myself in your single bed with feet that hang off the end
letting you pull my clothes off with those hands
that always know how to hold me
slipping your fingers right between the space of my ribs.
I paint words on your neck with my lips
that envelop how beautiful I know you are.
You don't think you'll come back?
I tried to walk around the world enough times
in that moment, in my mind
to tell you something you'd want to hear
but all I got were ***** soles and a steamy kiss
to cradle the shake in your spine-
Not even for me?
whiskey, whiskey, whiskey
I don't even know what will happen to me.
So I just hold you enough times until the truth settles,
until the realization has become a manifestation
of tossing and turning together in your bed
wrapping around the heart-shaped symbol of love in our heads.

A lot can happen in four years
I weaved around the promise in your brain.
You retraced the curves of my neck with your hands,
pulling me in so we wouldn't feel so lonely.
And even though we can't admit in the denial
that we were spreading around each other
in a pretty suspension of how we wish
things could eventually work out,
we understand how hard it will be to take
waiting for the other after all that time.
Not even for me?
whiskey, whiskey, whiskey
we just healed the break with a kiss
as we spent another night trying to forget we were real,
masking on our own graduating fears
A lot can happen in four years.

She stares past as her life flies by,
some memories sweet
while others dissatisfy.

She remembers she was 8
and her dad pushing the swing
with muscular ease
as her hair swayed
with the honey-suckle breeze.

She remembers her 15th summer
racing on through
bringing with it raging hormones
and ***** boys.

She remembers bitter tears
shed on mother's caring shoulder
when Robert said that they were over.

She remembers prom and
mistakes she made
and the boy who never again
glanced her way.

She remembers the agony
9 terrible months later brought
for a tiny, screaming baby
and she remembers the love that grew
in spite of the pain.

She sits on that bench and
quietly remembers her child’s firsts:
teeth, words, steps that grew into strides.
and her only regret: only the man
with his godawful pride.

She climbs on the bus
gently grasping the hand
of her bright eyed
and well-loved child.
And this child,
this child,
who is wealthier than most
for the child knows only of
love.

I want to touch your soul,
Not just your body.
I want to feel your heartbeat,
Right against my heart.

Skin on top of skin,
No sheets inbetween.
Places untouched,
Will soon be discovered.

I'll fix your heart,
If you'll fix mine.
I'll kiss your lips,
And hold you tight.

Nothing will harm you,
I can promise you that.
I'll be there for you,
Till the end of time.

God, the scent of us afterward,
The crazy mess of our love.
Left over pieces of us,
Could be put back together.

As you trace my scars,
I let out a moan.
You know why
I'm scared.

Scared of what comes next,
Because I'm scarred from the last time.
I'm broken because of him,
But you, her, she, you, plan to make me feel
Loved.

                                                    ­                          That'll never happen though
It's just a dream.
A stupid fantasy.
You'll never want to touch my soul
My body
Or listen to my heartbeat.
You don't want
My lips on yours
You don't like
The scent of my skin
You hate
My moans.
And I know
You don't plan to put together the
Broken pieces of me.


So, why is it that I want you?

If I were to die tonight,
    would you be alright?
Karma came back full blast
    and I knew I couldn't last.
All I can do is wait for fate
    to take me away and never let go.
So if I leave you alone
      and never come home
Would you be ok?
           Cause I've gone insane.
                      I've gone insane.
                      I've gone insane.
And the secrets are eating my brain
My final breathe is leaving my chest
                       and
I can feel my soul getting ready to go,
        but I really need to know,
             will you be fine once I am gone?
When there is nothing left but
      the thoughts of my past
and there is nothing new of what i will do.
Will you be the same?

caressing you
the nape of your neck
towards the dimples on your back
flirting with every finger
to a jazz rhythm
making every pore pert
dreaming about our love
waking you up most subtly
coaxing you back into the bed
back toward the place where we
have the best memories
STOP
that tickles
and to write this
only to the be coaxed back
come cuddle with me
i oblige

When I was but a boy
no older than 4

       I insisted that the number of pickles
       on my sandwich be representative
       of my age.  

4 years.  4 pickles
5 years.  5 pickles
6 years.  6 pickles


This went on for awhile.

    Eventually, though, I felt it was time to end that particular tradition.

28 pickles was getting ridiculous...