i love blue
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I'm lying here,
So restless in bed
You're the only thought,
I have in my head.

Thinking of you,
Asleep I can't fall.
Staring at my phone,
Wishing you would call.

My heart still broken,
My mind going insane.
You're the only thing,
Going through my brain.

I miss you babe,
I miss your touch.
Not having you in my life,
It hurts so much.

I miss having you here,
Showing you how much I care.
Sending you roses,
Running my fingers through your hair.

It's hard to accept,
But I try to understand.
At this point right now,
I can't hold your hand.

My poem doesn't change anything,
I just like to write.
You mean the world to me babe,
Have a wonderful night.

Awake we sit
Armed to the teeth and waiting for war
It marches through doorways
Ours is next.
I look at you and see blood.
From our forefathers and theirs
Lucky strikes his fortune
Mayhem behind, more ahead.
Woe to the unprepared!
Why didn’t you make plans
For something you couldn’t foresee?
Woe to the doomsayers!
Why do you make ready
Your homes for the impossible?
Aren’t you ready
For inquisition of the top
The scrutiny of the roof.
Responsibility lay there,
its little hands poke up
Out of the hay wanting
To be picked up and taken
Out of the shed,
The manger.

Many clouds do race to hide Thee –

Of friends and wealth and fame –

And yet through mist of tears I see

Appear Thy Golden Name.

Each time my father, mother, friends

Do loudly claim they did me tend,

I wake from sleep to sweetly hear

That Thou alone didst help me here.

You exist in a moment
when we sat on the edge of the concrete when it meets the lake
in the night at the end of Chicago.
Our legs were in the water seated on stone.
The lapping of the waves.
The lapping of the cars.
Warmed by the city light.
We were, you and I, in the darkness of the water.
Cracking our heels against the solid stone.

For me you exist in that middle space.
What I thought I was and what I could be.
So when I feel the fog against my legs at night as they pound heavy on the pavement
how can I not be sent back into a thought of your arms.
Alexander, My Great.

Before that, though,
how we sat in Michigan underneath summer stars.
Where we shared voices in a hushed darkness defied.
On the soft sand near the large rocks
watching the expanse between the lights
and the sweet invasion from Chicago’s night.

That expanse, I love
when it melted into your chest and the small stars became your birth marks.
I was born under you.
The stretches of black.
Your stretches of gold.
I still feel the trees behind us
and our friends on the beach and the beer in our hands
and the stars on your chest.

Subjectivity seems like a curse near the rocks in the water.
A name is a thing with stars on its chest
that melts Chicago with coursing waters.
If my truth is objective and you call it love
then my beauty becomes fact in that moment.
Every stone in broken sand we sat on.
The exact color of the fog.
Every lapping of the cars has meaning in it.
Or none of it does and I go back.

Leave the beaches and leave the moment.
Leave with me.
I no longer am satisfied with Michigan waters and Chicago stone.
I want the space we saw.
The blackness punctured by heaven
punctured by you.
I need the space or the planets contained in dark to be with you.
No mixtures, no negotiations, no more breaking waves.
I will sit with and feel the weight of your existence.
Just you.

Our pursuits are to express into the world,
to be able with steady heart and clear breath to say something to you.
I should block out the lapping of the cars and give something to you.
But I am always stuck in these moments with you.
Trapped in the cold of the cans and the silk of the sand.