I knew he was the one when
He wanted to grow plants with me.
He didn't want to buy me a rose,
He wanted to grow me a garden.
The offspring of our joined love
And a living representation
Of our beauty.

Little pieces of you flow through my veins among the plasma and blood cells. Bits of you bump into molecules of oxygen and they smile. My heart loves you. It pumps you through my ventricles and asks my body not to filter any of you out. My brain sends out constant oxytocin in your presence and my hippocampus keeps memories of your touch within easy reach. My body loves you just as much as I do.

Words that were not meant to hurt me pierced through me like a million tiny needles filled with Novocain.
It was not really pain at all.
With those words replaying in my mind, over, and over, the circumstances slowly began to sink in. When I finally worked up the will I could not get my fingers to move as I tried to type my reply.

I was numb.

There seems to be an attitude, regarding rhyme,
That suggests free verse
A better way to waste your time.
Problem is, with meter lost
And structure sent away at cost
What's left is but a soup of sound
That works for some
But for others, hounds.
To me the art lies in the rules, to know the code and sift the pools
And once or twice to bend a straight...
Throw out a line that doesn't scan.
If you make it the point of the whole piece, however,
You can easily **** the whole endeavour.
But that's just me and, taste is taste,
Yet, don't rub free verse in my face
And claim it the right over the wrong.
A dying style or old timed song
Can have a strong effect, I find
Amid the rolling buzz of contemporary lines.

i hope you sleep well and don't have dreams of cement blocks tied to your ankles while you're diving off the dock.
i hope your leather bound heart keeps all the ink in and that you trust yourself with a ******* pen, i hope you mean every kiss,
i hope everyone starts telling the truth,
starts making it clear,
"never let someone you love doubt that you love them."

i'm infatuated and stupid for it

and your     electricity
will propel   through me
   jolt me     ALIVE
make my skin   tingle
                                    this and your fingers
twirling until midnight
   chilly   trail   along   my   back
bones  I own
     played as a     silver harp

kiss me (pink)
and I’ll   sip   your smell
   like white wine
slip it under
my sleeve
   breathe easy
if you have     stained     me
with a [quick] shock of lipstick
watermelon juice
as a burn on my     neck

kiss me (red)
and my veins will i g n i t e
     a sunrise
between-our-toes
cauldrons for mouths
   burbling bits     of us
fat   happy   glistening   bubbles
wrench me
from the river   you know how
    rinse me in lilacs

kiss me (black)
and I’ll   crackle
spl int er as glass
be swept            along in neither here
               or there
lose my   taste   to the wind
fill milk-bottles to the     brim
   with inane bOO-hOOs
those bluespinksreds in-betweens
     **** me gently
(with a smile)

her fingers tenderly feel
the alphabets on the mail
dusty from lying in the letter box

she was away these two months
and now is back to a home
cobwebbed in cold silence

crawls up her eyes
a terrifying tear

this day last year

*he was here

everything is incredibly fleeting
and i can't help but think i am wasting too much time criticizing my thoughts and choices
over-analyzing every decision I make,
I am wasting so much time worrying

I'd rather spend that time hiking or dancing or kissing this boy i know
(especially kissing this boy i know)
(or holding his hand)
(or saying hello)

You told me that you have
Over one million hair follicles
And I believe you.
I do.
But, if it’s okay, I’ve never counted
To one million before.
I heard it takes a really long time,
But after I count all of the spots
The hair grows out of you,
I want to count all your freckles
And connect them like constellations.
You’re just like the universe to me
And each freckle is a star.
There are lots of stars we can’t
See with the naked eye,
But I want to find those too.
If that’s okay.

If I could be the perfect me
I’d be a perfect poet.
My hair would be long and blue
And I wouldn’t need anyone. Not even you.
I’d be a little too skinny
With long, lanky legs.
And freckles. Oh, the freckles i’d have
If I was a perfect me.
My eyes would resemble spring
Clean cut grass.
Eye lashes like the stem of an Allium
And shoulders like a mountain;
cut and pale.
I wouldn’t have you in my veins
And nothing would mean anything.
I wouldn’t need your permission to breathe

Or to just be me.

*(r.e.)