If you think about him while you write poetry, he's the one for you my lovely.

Just let these feelings
sit inside
and subside
let the tried and true
come to you
through the two
rules of this life
One
there is no rival
for love
Two
there is no love
if you can't face it
embrace it
UPPER CASE IT
because if you can't
give it
than prepare to live
a life
of receiving but not having
and traipse the edge of the knife
sort of like
a tightrope act
walked until cracked
in half complete
on cold concrete
with no one to say
goodbye to.

No-one would even remember you.
Love is the lens we see ourselves through
and it will all, one day, come into focus.
None of this 'meet and greet' hocus pocus,
life is an encounter
that you step up our back down to
but if you can come up,
then you will not go back down, you
are ten seconds of sunshine
in a night where no-one can find
anything,
you are the something,
you are the exception
we connect ourselves by strings
like hearts made of tin
there will be lonely days
when the path ahead
splays out like
a million highways.
But you can be a moonbeam
by which everything that would seem
impassable,
insurmountable
like boot set in dirt
so hard it takes up root
all these things
become moot
when held to your radiance
because there are gradients
in all life's creatures
but the greatest teachers
ever summoned to our side
will be our reflection
in the pond
do not abscond from this sight
you will die...

if you do not fight.



Alright?

Where does worth come from?

I've been told my aura is Lavender,
By a man trying to flee
light blue paper scrubs

and milk dripping down them.

He says I'm not suicidal,
Lavender never is.

remember those 'i love you more fights'?

looks like i won.

What would I say standing in front of a policeman?
What would I say standing in front of a black man?
What would I say standing in front of a victim?
What would I say standing in front of my children?
What would I say standing in front of the Constitution?
What would I say standing in front of the Sanhedrin?
What would I say standing in front of a Roman?
What would I say standing in front of heaven?

Sometimes I wonder if you like me or if-
You just like the idea. The concept.
Seeing me is like seeing yourself, looking in a mirror.
How do I know that you love me, and not the concept.
You’re projecting.
It’s all conceptual.

If imperfect people create perfect love, then what are we?
If imperfections make you beautiful, did I become grotesque?

If the concept is more alluring than the truth, then is it a lie?
If the concept is better than me, then maybe I’ll never be your lover.