If there is something you want to know,
Please ask for it.

Don't go searching
A blank canvas
For strokes that don't exist.

Ask,
And I shall answer
Your gentle calls-

That is a promise,
Not a passing thought.

This poem must be heard
With eyes closed,
Chest open,
And blood coursing through
Untold chasms, it must

Be felt and reverberate
Across every vessel inside
Your expansive brain

I've got
Socks around my ankles,
A chip on my left shoulder,
And
A lover who's naieve enough
To say I'm meaningless.

This is the summer
Of burning down houses,
Repairing bridges,
Of **** on the fly.

This is the summer
Of misconstrued lovers,
Of thick consummation
And marital wine.

She drinks fine wine and oozes class - with eyes and a smile that melt my heart. Here's me, just oozing, with cider and tears for company...