i know i change my mind a lot

I like your hands
;slender beautiful/ fingers
.

(it's silly, probably
to think about hands so much) (  )

And your smile, unexplained, inescapable.

but i can trust you
to understand, take things slow, with me.

I wouldn't have it any other way, I swear

and i will never compare you
to all the people that came before you



and i won't sing about your hair

or write poems about your lips

( even though i will) want to


i just don't want you to think


that you're like everyone else
I'm not
worried
though
.

you know that you're different
( i am pretty sure... that)
we both know
that i think about you
a lot
and i'm going to miss you(r hands)

i'm taking this slow,
like a train ride into the horizon

we can take a few years getting there,
and i'll enjoy just taking the journey
*is this okay?

You said you'd come to tea
so I made a cake
chocolate sweet; maraschino filled;
girdled with a satin blue ribbon;
set out the prettiest plates;
hand painted with forget-me-nots.
And from the darkest corner of a drawer
found a single candle to celebrate the day.
I'd understand if you had 'phoned,
but now the chocolate lends a bitter taste
and even the despairing posies have given up all hope
as the candle's flame flickers my ever waiting shadow.

I didn't see your face,
When you loved me,
Maybe when I was dreaming,
But it was only cold,
It follows me now,
Your name across my world,
And you've stolen all the feelings,
All the places,
That I shouldn't have given you,
So I change my sheets and mattresses and hair,
But I still smell of us,
And you're still breathing on my neck,
So I stop crossing bridges,
And maybe I want to dream of you,
But you never loved me,
You're too cold to hold fire,
Too blind for emotion,
So I'll move my window,
And cover my doors with things you've never seen,
And bring strangers to bed,
Because that's all you are.**

And somewhere in this whirlwind of boys who don't feel and furniture, he takes my hand and shows me I never forgot how to smile.

                                                                      ­                                                                 ­                           I guess that's love.

I WALKED among the streets of an old city and the streets were lean as the throats of hard seafish soaked in salt and kept in barrels many years.
How old, how old, how old, we are:-the walls went on saying, street walls leaning toward each other like old women of the people, like old midwives tired and only doing what must be done.
The greatest the city could offer me, a stranger, was statues of the kings, on all corners bronzes of kings-ancient bearded kings who wrote books and spoke of God's love for all people-and young kings who took forth armies out across the frontiers splitting the heads of their opponents and enlarging their kingdoms.
Strangest of all to me, a stranger in this old city, was the murmur always whistling on the winds twisting out of the armpits and fingertips of the kings in bronze:-Is there no loosening? Is this for always?
In an early snowflurry one cried:-Pull me down where the tired old midwives no longer look at me, throw the bronze of me to a fierce fire and make me into neckchains for dancing children.

As to some lovely temple, tenantless
Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass,
Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass
Grown up between the stones, yet from excess
Of grief hard driven, or great loneliness,
The worshiper returns, and those who pass
Marvel him crying on a name that was,—
So is it now with me in my distress.
Your body was a temple to Delight;
Cold are its ashes whence the breath is fled,
Yet here one time your spirit was wont to move;
Here might I hope to find you day or night,
And here I come to look for you, my love,
Even now, foolishly, knowing you are dead.

Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
That will not after,
That song and laughter
Do nothing move.

With ribbons streaming
He sings the bolder;
In troop at his shoulder
The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
Dreams is over -- -
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I come.

This one is for the ugly girl

Who wears her awkwardness like a kick me sign

Who stares at you with squinted eyes

Mouth agape

Thinkin’

I really wish I understood this mess

She is not an ugly duckling

Passing time till that one moment where

She just shines

No

It was just me that day watchin you in the audience

The way you play

Like your fingers were hammers

It sounded like a warning

And suddenly we all knew there was a fire going

Vagrant and unnoticed in some corner of the world

But you managed to hear its sound

And pounded it out for as long as it lasted

So I went straight home after

That fire burning in the hollow of my chest

I wrote this

This is for you

The girl who does more than just wear her heart on her sleeve

She wears it like a compound fracture

Sticking out of the front of her chest

Red like an apple placed on the head of a small child

And there’s always someone with a bow and arrow

Bulls eye is always heartbreak

Near hits a dime a dozen

People say she’s ugly but her heart is huge

Not because she’s nice

But because its swollen

Flowery perfume, floats on the sound,
Forcing its way out 
From behind your teeth.
The chemical that numbs our senses.  

Now dead to the world,
I sit alone in the dark,
As your frosted window kills the sun.
Let all my blood rush out my core,
Don't freeze us, piece by piece,
Thick and sluggish blood,
Dead. With an ice cold heart.

How noble, such a pretty face.
That mask of porcelain and lace.
Dressed high and mighty,
It's no wonder why you fall
So far.  Here on the ground,
No grass, no soft silk to cushion the blow.

We people, of dirt.
Must learn to turn what's brown to clay.
To cook from earth a bowl and plate.
We survive, and we sing away the night.
We make filthy our clothes, and lie in the sun.

Lie in the sun and not to a face,
Equivocate. You fill your words with grace.
Justify your lie, prevaricate.
Then *******, all over their face.

Catch your flies with your brown honey.
I'll burn away all the world's impurities,
With the fire in my words.
Nurse the damage, with 
Cold hard truth.
Build scar upon scar.
Become new. Evolve.

I stood in the sun
and thought of you
and of my junebug heart.
It clings on, unshakable,
even after it’s death.

And you like that about me,
my junebug heart that is.
You think you have one too.
I know that you don’t.
Yours is fleeting.

A slumber did my spirit seal;
    I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
    The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;
    She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course,
    With rocks, and stones, and trees.