Real love is too realistic to bear a name: true, enduring, forever.
Romance is not romantic, for love letters are dull to read, and flowers wilt, and butterflies cease to flutter.

Love, you'll never be further away than when you are lying next to me.
When I can hear your heartbeat, and know there is no guarantee that another night will pass in your arms.

I lie to myself to keep the pieces aligned.

And miles from where you are, I lie in bed, sleepless, unsettled.
Solitude: my closest friend, my last resort, my life support.
When you, my legs-my love, are not there to support me.

For foundations settle, walls crack, paint chips.
And fires will consume what the winds leave standing.

I wish I could have stood with you.
Planted deeper our roots.
Made a one from a two.




But fairytales don't always come from “dreams come true.”

i rope in your lungs
with my fingers,
there is a space
between your bones
and i want to fill it,
pouring in the lines
they told me
before they left me,
one by one,
leaving you
to carry me home

your fingertips,
they are riverbeds --
they are waiting
for the moment
when i can grow gills
and swim with the words
that crowd inside your chest
when you can't find
the right ones
to say

there are stars
tattooed onto the underside
of your stomach, there are
tiny planets swimming
in your blood stream
that i wish i could
dance my fingers through
just to remind you
that there are heavens
stirring in your heart,

this heart,
it chokes with shadow
some nights, but there is
a beacon shining in your bed
that i can't wait to discover,
submerged in the wreckage
our bodies left behind

and someday,
let me stir clouds
into your eardrums
let me breathe life
into the caverns
you've forgotten existed
let me fill your skull
with salmon finding
their way upstream,

you found your way
through the stream
that flows in my wrists,
you kissed the reeds
growing in my blood cells,
and one night, you held
my jaw together
as the sickness threatened
to break through it --
you always knew

how to unlock
the fastenings
in my vertebrae,
the ones who beg
to pull me down.

if somehow
the darkness
in my throat
began to spread,
i know
you would be the first one
pleading
to be dragged
along
with it.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

Sock-less in the winter turned
spring for fear of
                  freezing over

      every inch of
          things you treasured and
  couldn't wait to leave behind

              just months to go and
still
no snow-white to
build upon blazes
that come with new faces
and
kindle friendships as
roads are
dubbed exceedingly dangerous

time is a friend to those who
tri-p-let their way to the flatness of
it all, world and walls waiting
for a




break in the traffic


waiting for a sunspot in the year's
star mural,
                    wandering in parking
                    lots where people hint at that
mysterious intersection of dreams
and the sensory

I'm an unthinkable mess
stuck in a wreck

explaining myself until my throat goes numb.

I was a dull flame flickering out
and you were a ball of rage, faster
burning, striking with liking me
too much too close to the skin
and you were underneath in those
parts I didn't dare share, and once I did
over and over and
again
i wanted to stop after so long of the ripping
and putting back together
and ripping
and repairing
and ripping.
taking the time to look at the picture,
I found it was so torn that there was nothing left.

so to create a new one
I destroyed the old.
your death grip is no hold.

"Don't think about me."