when I saw her for the first time..
my jaw was introduced to all of the gravitational pull that earth has to offer
my eyes turned to shutters,
they opened wide to take in as much of her as possible and closed with a flash hoping to burn the fondest memories of her image into my memory banks
she was that shade of beautiful.

her toes.
calloused from dance shoes and broken.
broken from raising herself up on them to reach for standards.
standards placed in the sky, by her parents.
standards of which she always seemed to fall short of.

her toes and on to her feet, which are swift like the wind as they run.
run from situations at the first sign of trouble.

up further to her legs.
legs smooth and long like piano keys, halfway up rests her knees.
knees that bend as her
hips swing and move, and twist like a blender
as the music grows loud and the lights get dimmer.

upwards more to her waist ill rise
here hosts prints from where these hands used to lie
i'll climb her ribs to a chest that cages a heart that beats a tune
a tune that I like but no none of the words to.   

arms that stretch far and wrap wide
like gift paper around the present
which is her letting me inside....
of those arms
body against mine...thoughts moving fast but slow goes the time.

her shoulders
so strong and worn
worn from carrying the weight of the problems
many which aren’t even her own.

her neck is a ‘bridge’ that takes me from her body to her mind
a trip there and you’ll be surprised by the things that you’ll find

but first lips
lips and a tongue that knows tricks that all magicians envy
her mouth imprisons words
both harsh and sweet and the prisoners escape plenty.

her teeth
they dig into her bottom lip when turned on
and pierce the insides of her cheeks from habit
but back to lip,
when she bit it i just knew I had to have it.

a nose that could smell a lie from a mile away.

her eyes shine bright
bright as the sky
on a sunny day thats so luminous the clouds cowered on this day
they were afraid to show themselves
these eyes are like windows,
she’s sees out and i try to see right back inside
but cant,
all i see is the reflection of another set as she looks into mine
they’re so big with such clarity
from the tears that have washed across them like Windex
she’s a strong girl who holds her tears hostage
but when they cant take it anymore they commit suicide
they jump from those eyes
but never when anyone is around to bear witness to the tragedy.

she has a wrinkle in her forehead and brow from all of this lifes confusion, some of which came from me

her hair flows long and smooth like brown silk
with a smell, such a smell...it reaked of a smell
that tells me her shampoo was made specifically based on the preferences of my nose
it all encaged a mind
a mind that was so different but went so well with mine 
packed with a dangerous combination of intelligence and perspective thats real hard to find
 

and this is all just from the very first time
first time, that your path crossed mine.

a renaissance is long overdue.
the rebirth is officially here, this marks the beginning of a new chapter.

there's a colorful mystery in silence
in quietness
the question of whether the mute portrait of a human is lost in a daydream
engulfed by sadness
or running from madness
or have they been caught

if a picture is worth a thousand words,
let me be still
and silent
like a portrait, a photograph, a frozen moment in time
unless my actions and words can outweigh a thousand in their importance.

dear next boyfriend-
you better hold her tighter than hands grip the wheel of a nascar vehicle as they approach the final turn and that checkered flag.
and hope that I'm not waiting for her at the finish line with a Sprint Cup trophy containing champagne that tastes like
a house,
4 kids,
and a life filled with a love that would make Shakespeare put his pen down.
it wouldn't fit on the page.
in a book.
in a library.
in a poem.
in a song.
in an album.

you need to hug her like you are trying to prevent her body from exploding into a vast constellation of a million stars.
Nova bright.
Nova? Right.
a light her bright can shine without it being night.

cherish her noise.
her laugh is an anthem.
her breath is enough music to lullaby you to sleep and get you through the night.
her cry..
her cry...
her cry.
watercolor tears, they will stain your soul.
pick your battles.
and remember that she is on your team and not your opponent.
her heartbeat sounds like thunder.
because it's ten sizes too big,
in a world that models their own after the Grinch.
she's Cindy Lou in her impact.
she will change you.

cherish her touch.
it's a gateway to a whole new world.
it's like meditation and the most violent storm happening all at once when she kisses.
I hope you like the rain.
her hands are long,
slender,
with fingers like piano keys.
I can still remember the songs she played on my skin.

Love is my most convincing proof of God,
and Dear Father;
you tell us not to covet thy neighbor.
but lord have you seen her smile?

Dear distant love,
geographically and chronologically.. distant.
if you ever find yourself alone at the Verizon center.
with sad eyes and a heavy heart.
and a craving for breakfast food for dinner.
whisper my name into the wind and know that a voice that sweet would never miss my ears.
not even from roughly 1,053 miles away.
not a chance.
send me a letter.
addressed to the boy with a love for panda bears and the way of the samurai.
and a you shaped space in his heart that is still waiting for you.

if you know,
you must come fourth and speak.
they say that talk is cheap,
but standing up and speaking out are tasks not for the weak.

there's something deeply romantic about being honest with yourself.

I see your moment,
and I raise you a lifetime.

but the world doesn't need another break-up poem..

pour yourself into me like a cloud draining itself of heavy rain from the sky,
and I won't miss a single drop.

fight for someone WHO loves you
and not for someone TO love you.

"so you've been sleeping with a thief-
        in your bed
I stole your heart-
        and your pillows"

strive for a love like a windmill.
a cycle of perpetual and effortless consistency.

I was not built for a quiet love.
my love burns like fire and surrenders like ash and embers
there is a war happening within my chest cavity
between my ribs
that has no victor... no winning side
I breed a battlefield type of love.

they tried to bury us..
they didn't know that we were seeds.
you know what happens next.

you were the wintery wonderland that lies silently beautiful at the highest peaks of mountain tops.
your laughter played symphonic tones that could bring ease to the most anxious souls.
your optimism shined like a camera flash erupting in the dead of night. you were that bright.

these words are dedicated to you
the x-man
your powers are seemingly endless
they have no bounds
you still appear in our conversations and arguments
long after you are no longer around

you can travel through time.


accusations fly like bullets do
i thought i had the power to dodge them
but im not like you
i take direct hits on a daily basis and am quickly headed towards critical
these hypothetical concerns she has regarding my fidelity are addressed so often
they are beginning to seem literal

you can control her mind.


its as if you can feel it whenever we begin to get close
as if she hasnt had enough
you prescribe another dose
stick around just long enough to leave your mark
then shadow her radiance
you consume her light with your dark

you are everywhere and nowhere
when she needed you
only absence was felt
now that she begs distance
you surround her, in suffocating fashion
just like a belt

you can teleport.


this is titled X-Men for a reason
because its astonishing how you posses these sort of abilities
it seems you will always have an administrative advantage
an emperor like rule
but the only power that you posses, is fueled by her
and you have it because she allows you to.