every foreign word means love
if you don't know the language
you stand and nod and try to hold on
but you're swept up in love

how easily we speak this mystic language?
and how illiterate we are in our own interactions-
affectionate half-romantic advances turning into mundane
check ins and not even real conversations,
after which both of us return to dwelling in made up homes,
alternate americas and fantastic fables where we can be anything
even in love?
ethan gaskill Dec 2018
i feel overwhelmed in a special way
in the joy of not knowing what to say
only your beauty could bite my tongue
i’m writing poetry with you in front of me
like Mona Lisa sitting, posing for da Vinci
and *** willing, i think you may be into me
but i can’t read you-
can you give a hint to me?
oh darling, your heart is the only one i need
ethan gaskill Dec 2018
the first night that you called me
i was starting to suspect
but when i felt my heart beat
i didn’t need to guess
in that hour i subscribed to a whole life
with you as my wife

i wonder if you feel the very
same way about me?
are you laying in bed right now
falling headfirst into a dream?
if the song isn’t for you, i’ll change the tune
love me soon

art is in the eye of the
beholder, so they say
so if i were a painter
i’d be painting you each day
with your blond hair and your oh-so-perfect eyes
i’ve got butterflies
admittedly, i barely know her. on the other hand, she’s already so precious to me
ethan gaskill Nov 2018
the starry winter sky
can be our mistletoe

i want to kiss
your candy cane lips

you'd be the perfect gift
  Nov 2018 ethan gaskill
alexa
isn't great for much,
but we get the best sunsets.
no, it's not the caribbean
certainly not santorini
or venice
or the aurora borealis in alaska
but we get by,
with pink cotton candy clouds, edges pinched and dragged
across the inky sky,
edges twirled up like feathers on a dove,
the sky behind dissolving into
shades of indigo and cerulean,
fuchsia and mango,
sunshine and cobalt.
no, they're not life-changing
but they're beautiful to me
yes, we get by
in my little corner of the world.
-a.c.b
where my jersey peeps at
  Nov 2018 ethan gaskill
arizona
Saltwater rivulets
trickle down
this rigid spine
back to the oceans;
an offering to
the moon and stars -
our elders in the sky
who feed these waves
eternally back to the shore.
I know I don’t deserve
the patience of this earth
or to swim in it’s ever-giving waters
but it chooses to
love me just the same.
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