I've gone
From writing with flourish
To writing a novel
That only goes
"And then, and then, and then."

I've gone.

My favorite memories with you
Are by far the ones made
While dancing in your kitchen,
Sitting in silence in your room
With everyone else either at work or sleep.
I've longed for the calming ocean
To swallow me before
But never like this.

Whoever originally told you
That your eyes were angry ones
Was a person
Who had never seen love before.

I raised my arms
To greet the day
And I swear
I could feel God
Grab me by the wrists
And sling me against the ground
Again.

I've always written my best romantic poetry
When I was suffering
In one way or another.
Thank you
For taking the suffocating suffering
And hiding it under your pillow
While you hold me.

With a voice as grainy as sand,
I was told by many a man
That love was a curse,
A soft Gypsy hand stroke on the cheek
Endured by the lonely
And accepted by fools.

I can't rightfully
Comment on the color of your eyes,
The swiftness of your thought
Without remarking
On the innocence flowing in your veins
And the worldliness
That's only been present
In drifter gods before you.