I don't think I'll miss
the nights before you showed up
but I could be wrong.

Sacred places
are extremely rare
covered in fallen leaves
hidden behind overgrown brush
a tree stretches along the ground
bends into the air
creates a hiding place
just beyond it
where the ground lowers;
lay a blanket down
come closer
let's make this place
ours
this place between the trees
laying just beyond the
road.

In winter days
as cold as an arctic rush
I find comfort in
the length of your fingertips
grasping the edges of my sanity
and how your dimples show
with every snowflake;

you blush like the summer sun.

One of my friends
quiet as he may be
actually paused today and asked
why I am so against wearing my
seatbelt.

Why?

I had no heart to tell him
that without that safety harness
around my chest
I am one step closer to death
and I prefer it that way,
no heart to tell him
while they all think my
suicidal tendencies are
under control,
never to be seen again.

They think I'm all better
but I've got hidden demons
always begging to come out
and play.

I hug you close
with apologies washed down the drain
forgiven;
pulling back to meet your eyes
they were wet and sad
--two generic descriptions
but your sorrow overflowed--

Don't cry. C'mon Baby, don't cry.

I stroke
every
single
tear
away from your
beautiful blue eyes
while apart of me
crashes and
caves in on itself
for my lover
who's breaking
right in front of these
dry eyes.

Although your cheek is
my only canvas today
(My lips the paintbrush)
I love you all the same.

*And paintbrushes slip
towards lips, sometimes.

Fingertips to lips
legs tangled together;
uncertainty coats your eyelashes.

Little kisses on the nose
forehead, chin;
we know what's coming next.

Your face is buried in
the nape of my neck;
we are cheek to cheek.

I align my nose with yours
our lips centimeters apart

                             Breathe
                   deeply

one...
                           two...
                                                    three
­
          F    
     a                      i                
        l                       n                      f
            l                 t                    o
                                  o       ­          u
                                                       r

Pull away
           eyes open

                        smile at
                                  perfection.

Lover I've got a problem
You're not kissing my neck
gripping my sides
You're not letting me
succumb myself to the joy
laced within your skin cells
and God forbid you're not
whispering future plans
in my ear
I can't see you bite your lip
I can't hear the small gasps
that sneak up from the depths
of your throat
I can't smell your cologne
or your bed sheets
or your favorite pillow
**It's all so **** far away

You're as wild
as a storm
and even if I chased storms for a living
catching you would be
my proudest
achievement
yet.

Light faded;
cascaded down the back of every mountain
and while the sea caressed the shore
its touch soon turned violent
in a fury of interrupted comfort
and just before the world turned dim,
before the earth was cold,
a release of tension
dawned.

Do you not know that in every spec of dust
and in each groove carved into the floor
and in all the etches of your skin
there is a grand momentum
building up, waiting to collide
with the essence of you and I in mind,
like the intricacy of your fingernails
digging down
                      down
                               down
into the soul with the speed of light
and only you and I
               you and I in mind
hoping to send us to expressions portraying nothing
--the numbness! the abyss!--
It notices us screaming
but it doesn't give a ****
and in every spec of dust
and in each groove carved into the floor
and in all the etches of your skin
a growing force is inching towards
the walls.

Yesterday I missed your arms around me
Today it is your voice
and your lips
Tomorrow will be the way you say
"I seen" instead of "I saw"
or how when you laugh
you open your mouth as wide as it will go
unaccompanied by any sound
Next week I imagine it will be
how you look at me
between each kiss
like you can't believe your eyes
you grip me tighter because of it
like I'm just an illusion and
I'll disappear in seconds
And any other day you're gone
it will be the essence of your stressors
the basis of your burdens
the crux of your half-attempted smiles
that I am bound to miss;
it will be the very core
and constitution
and backbone
of you
that I long to preserve
essentially.

It was my fault this time;
he found what I've been hiding
on my right thigh
I'm sorry Baby
I swear I didn't mean to make you cry
it won't happen again
I'll bring the knife higher up
out of sight
from now on.

Your love devours me
         and I love it
Your hands move
         all around me, my
faceneckstomachbacklegs
         [sometimes I wish they'd move to new places]
How can I show you that I love it?
         Easy.
[Kiss harder, don't pull away, grip tightly]
Have your hands ever dared to wander?
        You never let them.
You breathe,
                tilt your head,
                                  lean back to meet my eyes
[don't stare, just touch]
My lips are hungry for yours,
                                                     not for talking.
[Eyes closed, but I see every part of you.]
          I       can      take       care       of       you.
Grip
        Tug
               Pull
                       kiss
                               me
                                     harder
                                                  hold
                                                           me
                                                                 longer
                                                                            love
                                                                                   me
                                                                     *please.

If I ever come across your stricken face
awash with grief
I hope to be deafeaned
so as to not hear you scream

--God knows I may deserve the sight;
the sight but not the sound--

and I will hold you until the flowers
bloom (or wilt) beneath the rain,
whichever outcome the weather decides for us
I will hold you,
and diminish thoughts of pain
and thoughts of misery,
until your eyes shine once again
as brightly as the sun,
until the meadow is dry and warm
with the absence of defeat

I will hold you.

You act as if I planned for this
but you don’t know the half of it,
you haven’t a single clue.

You could never understand
my love for rain;
how beautiful it is even after the wind subsides
bringing petrichor.
I wanted to dance beneath it--
you said people would stare
I did so anyways and
watched as you walked away.

You never bothered to decipher
my love for music
or the particular webs of notes
that made my heart strum like a six string
no--you never bothered looking for a pick.
Your only concern was how my preferred genre
contrasted from yours.

You never once fathomed
watching a full movie
without touching your lips
to mine
never truly grasped the scene
or fell in love with any of the characters
got offended when I forced you
to keep your eyes on the screen--
we were in a theater, for God’s sake.

We never spent a single day alone
at your house, nor mine,
never lazed around
watching the day go by around us
while baking fatty desserts,
not watching our favorite movies
playing stupid board games
I would have loved it
but no--when we weren’t with our friends
you were begging on your knees
for me to be in the same position
wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You once asked the medical
definition of depression,
never inquired for more.
Never unraveled the ribbons that tumbled
out of the dusty corners of my brain
late at night
when I couldn’t wipe the tears away
fast enough.
Never respected the days
where I woke up
wishing I didn’t wake up
I just wanted to be left alone
quit trying to hold my hand
you’re just ******* me off.
No--all you ever said
when those days came and went
was, “I’m sorry”.

Parts of this were my fault too--
I could’ve tried harder
to make you understand--
but the more I distanced myself
the more comfortable I felt.

You never claimed to be a poet, Dear,
but I did;
I claim it each and every day.
You never read the words
I asked you to
but the one good thing
I’ve held on to from our time together
are all the poems I’ve written of you,
all of the words that have collected themselves
to form the patchwork essence of
who you are
and I have finally come to understand
even though you probably haven’t
perhaps you never will
but for this,
I thank you kindly.

I love you.

How much?

Well...I was going to say
to the ends of the universe and back
but I decided not to.

Why!
What's wrong with that?

...Not far enough.

I had a boy on top of me tonight
but not just any boy
he's an angel
a champion
my only hope in the most dreary of days

he laid on top of me in the grass
with lighting flashing behind his eyes
the wind shook the branches around us
and this angel
carried
               me
                       away
gathered me up in
every fold of his heart
we drifted towards euphoria--

I swear I'm in love.

Her wingspan is
a mystery
lost and forgotten
information;

he holds her too close
to even let them
flutter.