All those times
I half-spilled coffee on myself
because your words enchanted me
with some glimmer of compassion.

All those times
I sat across from you in a dark room
hoping only to catch your eye
in the dim glow of a television.

All those times
I shivered in an empty car
waiting for the bar to close
so you could make it home to me.

Well, you've been drinking
I can smell it on your breath
but kiss my anyway.
Maybe I am selfish

for wanting to kiss you often
when you know I am too shy.
Maybe I am foolish
for playing with cupid's arrows,

but I will play with fire anyway because
what the hell, I like to watch things burn.
I like the ever-impending possibility
of setting fire to my own insides,

of burning this place to the ground.
Your hands stir me from my sleep
and for you, I burn brightly enough
to light the night sky a thousand times over.

You and I fell in love with
the calm before the storm,
as all lovers do.
When the tepid winds blow across
the steady blue plains and sunlight
winks through the ocean's collar
like a shy school girl,
we are mad with happiness.
The waves are calm and everlasting
and we are just the same.
But any lover of the water must know
that its temper is likely to change
without warning.
The tide rushes high and low across
a distant shore, and here the waves
are churning with a mighty force.
It doesn't change how the Sailor feels at home on the Sea,
or how your love makes a Shipwreck of me.
I'll drown in my love for the water
before I waste away by the shore,
only looking out from a distance
at the ocean I love so.
Though this sea bears many storms
and my vessel is fragile and small,
I would give my life to weather its waves
and sail the sunny waters once more.

Appearing suddenly,
you bloom like tulip bulbs
sprouting in the solace
of new spring beds.

Growing and shuddering,
you climb the crevices
of my ancient broken
walls like ivy.

Sighing and shivering,
I seek your gentle touch
in the folds of my flesh
as night descends.

Your fingers work quickly--
the vines and stems and buds
knowing where to find my
open spaces.

My petals unfurl wide
in the pale morning light,
and the heavy rains fall
at half past noon.

Sometimes I fear the cold,
knowing frost will **** me--
but for now, I enjoy
the sunshine bliss.

It's November and I am thinking of your
rough hands reaching up my sweater
because PA is so cold and
you are so entitled.

It's the kind of cold that coagulates
in your bone marrow and forces
its way into the fibers
of your clothes.

You are white-hot now and I
am pulsing in your palms--
dry lips choke me like smoke rings.
Between love and loose fingers, I ******

The stray dark curls falling
from your forehead. I collapse
into the brassy green light
of your stained-glass eyes.

And I should have known
by the shape of your handwriting
that you would leave me,
but I'll let your love

destroy me anyway.

The answer to life is hanging
between the corners of your smile and
those 2 am phone calls.

It's simply in the way we understand.
You understand;
I understand.

There is nothing less than
understanding
between us.

We are a couple of kids,
angry fists raised to the world
because we know everything
about Love.

Love is enough as the days
go by like burning candles,
and we still remember to call.

Standing there along the road
beside your car, I am unable
to let you go;

But it's the way the world works--
I am always standing
and you are always leaving.