[because not everyone understands what i mean,
though it's obvious to me]

when i say
"you are beautiful"
the meaning
depends on the
[context]
if you know
(and everyone around you knows)
you are a striking
shining
beautiful woman
then i mean,
"you are beautiful."

if you are a person
that has just
spilled their guts
their art
done some
amazingly selfless
act
then i mean
"you are *beautiful."

however,
if i'm speaking
to you*,
and i say
"you are beautiful"
i am saying it
in a
g a l a c t i c
                      |cosmic|
(cellular)
e l e c t r o n - like way

i am saying
that thoughtful look
that comes across
your face
lives in
my heart

i mean
that when i see
your body
i
temp
orar
ily
lose
my
breath…
and my first instinct
is to pour
glitter gold glory
over
you
which would
bring me to tears

when i say
(those words)
i mean that
your neurons are firing
in perfect time
that every decision
you make and
emotion you
reveal
is
right

for you alone
- these words -
s t r e t c h and
enfold
and include
trust and love and
judgement
without these
[there is nothing solid]

i don't call you
an     a i r y    beauty
or a flameless cute or
a lone handsome
your brain connections have
shown themselves to
be level
calm

you are beautiful
because i said i
wanted to give you
something
    and you said
       you already had everything
  and i knew in that moment
             that you meant those words

you are beautiful
because your voice
was made for me alone
to hear my name being said…
   so that it sounds like a drum

you are beautiful
in the blue
        of your eyes
   and the little part of
      your ears
the corners of your mouth
   the softness of
your hair
the hardness of
              your thighs
   the strength in
    your arms
the sureness
          in your chest

my beautiful one
i only want you to know
    that since i found a
beautiful
      cosmic
   ethereal man
like you
  i want you for myself
      i want to show you the way

if others have failed
   to see you for who
you are
     then they are
vile creatures, indeed

when i say
you are beautiful
   i mean i see the creator
                  in you
       the spinner of reality
   who deftly grabs his
warped or broken world
         and shapes it anew
without leaking dark bitterness
onto others
      while plucking strings
   and summoning images
            from the wild vastness
of imagination

you have caught my
eye     my
      ear      my
            body
wild one

in your presence
i listen and i connect
       i watch and i remember
              i feel every touch to the core

in the stillness
these words bombard me

because i could never
say this to your face -
   i would sound
    like a silly
          over-emotional
                   unstable
girl.

so instead i lamely say,

"i really like you."
"you are beautiful."

but believe me,

i am no girl.
i am not silly.
i am not over-emotional.
i am not unstable.
i am simply a poet.

i see, i feel, and the words come.
these words are true and rather
   un-emotional at times
        more like scientific facts
being fed from the environment
     and filtered through my senses
             my brain
                     my chemicals
and spit out in
data called poetry.

here is the data regarding your beauty.
interpret it as you will.

Like matter and antimatter

We were attracted

A scent of cake batter

A disease we contracted

An infection of attraction, recollection of the actions

That we took upon the shores of memories long gone.

And no matter how we try our lives continue to flit by

like photons from a far-away explosion drawn

from the straining of a system (void of friends, and sorely missed them)

The reaction came cascading to a halt.

The galaxy looked down upon us as we walked around.

Together you and I, perfection, to a fault.

Like matter and antimatter, our time together was brief.

There was nothing left of either of us after our chance encounter.

But for only a moment, we shone more brightly than anything in the universe.

Dear future love,
     Will you one day write poems for me? Would you write beautiful words with me as your inspiration? Could you capture me in between college-ruled lines? Paint a picture of me without picking up a paint brush? Write to me, about me , for me - like I see him do for her. Please tell me have we met, or will we ever? Am I just a face you see now, an image , a thought , a word. Can you let me know? Send a sign to your love. Or have the signs been sent and I , looking too hard for them. Am I overlooking the obvious, the perfect, the person, the you? Please tell me that you are out there wondering who the girl is that is writing about you!
Love
Always

I remember when I flew.

The freshly cut grass glued its self to my bare feet, the blades wanted to fly too.
I took off.

A powerful start, rocketed off the damp visage of Mother Earth.
She had great power, gravity, is what they called it.
They said more than kryptonite was needed to stop it.
Gravity, only defeated by breaking the laws of Newton.
I didn't want to break any laws (jail would not be fitting for this hero who needed to be back in time for lunch).

But I kept going, if birds can fly ( and knowing they have much smaller brains ) then I could figure out how too.
I kept going, until my toes kissed the leaves of the oak tree.
Each time I touched the tree time would freeze.
In that moment I watched the wisps of hair flow back and the shadows cross my face.

Soon I was over the trees, doing backflips and summersaults in the air.
I was floating on my back.
The sun warming my face.
The harmonic hum of far off lawnmowers singing in the distance.
I arched my back further and further ready for another backflip.

On my back looking up.
What happened?
I blinked.
A permanent scar on the hero's back.
Sit up.
WHAM
It hit me, the loss of flight, the loss of that reality
and the reintroduction of the other.
It was all gone Mother Nature won again.
A life long battle.
But I'll try to never forget,
I flew

Movie stubs and old house keys
some of my old memories.
Cut out words and broken jewelry
and things that are dear to me.

Hung up high for all to see
pieces that are part of me.
All the things I used to be
are now just my memories.

This girl is amazing
So beautiful
Captivating
Cherry lips
Make you wanna
Have a taste
You just want her
In your bed
Pour a bit more
Until you wake up
And this lust filled dream
Is not just in your head

I don't know about butterflies
                     but
                         I know happiness.
In my stomach,
           I feel only hunger,
                                             fear
                                    and sometimes indigestion;
                                               but never butterflies.
Even when I see her
              and she smiles at me,

I feel happy
                but my stomach is inactive,
                                        silent.
       ­                                   
But
  when our fingers interlock
                     her eyes meet mine
                   and our smiles parallel,

                         I cannot help
                                                  but
      ­                                                   feel at home.

I agreed in my youth
to spend
my time
in a monastery
speaking only once
each ten years

Ten years, and my Master
summoned me
and I said: "My bed is hard"


I had spoken
and I was back on my next ten
at the end of which I intoned:
"The food here is horrid"


I was on my next cycle
of ten years
and at the end of the third decade
I declared: "I quit!"


And my revered Master proclaimed:
*"Go, you loser.
All you have done is to whinge."