I want my love for myself
To overflow
And I want my overflow of love
To seep over onto you
But for now
My cup is empty
And maybe you can sense
That I have nothing to offer you

My heart will tear apart-
But like any other muscle
It'll simply grow back stronger.

You were my first.  
You taught me how to play.
You showed me the ins and outs of love.
Equipped  me with the knowledge I have today.
Your breath on my neck gave me chills
as you opened up a new world of thrills.
Touch here
Kiss there
That look in your eyes
That feeling you gave me made me feel I could fly.
Your nails scratching at my skin
oh how I do enjoy this sin.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

It’s the morning after the last heart session
Eyes open but brain still crackling with static and white noise
When I try it again
Hoping to get pen to paper
Before consciousness can recover sufficiently to intervene
And proffer pretty syntax to the poem
Hold the mind blank
And stack the words in rows of green growth
Like garden beds
That only need time and attention to bear fruit
Let truth come from some other place
Than reason or left brain
Or the extensive vocabulary
Meticulously indexed in the cranial cavity
Somewhere near the brain stem
Or maybe in the DNA
As C, T, G, and A
Storing data like binary only twice as complex
The recall mechanism operating in the darkness of our comprehension
Apprehension of its failure threatening to leave the poem unfinished
Unillustrated
Uncalibrated
Un-fact checked
Like that matters somehow
Like the facts are important in art
Like the right brain has no sense of propriety
Just as surely as the heart tells lies in gibberish
A chattering maelstrom of syllables in a cyclonic vacuum
And yet somehow the heart speaks with perfect clarity
Uncluttered rhythm
Timing and flow
So you know there is more going on here than we fully understand
Lend a hand to help decipher the intentions of a part of yourself wayward from the rest of you
Leading to a collapse of the ego
And a blurring of the lines between you and I
Turning discrete data into continuous
On the fly
On the run
Under sun and and moon and sky
Until the day that even death fails to be discrete
Or even an event any more important than a fire
Converting energy from one form to another

I wanted you to fall in love with this:
A picture of perfection painted well
Content to be a lovely mask you’d kiss
But through my time with you my image fell---
And did I right away share honest words
That dribbled from my lips pathetically
While fearing scorn and judgment I’d incur
Let my tears drop un-surreptitiously.
But now I had no sleek and stealthy ways;
You tore apart my well-crafted façade
I had not seen the brightness of the days
Twas shrouded by opacity of gauze
I did not like this much, I had delayed
Pursuing individuality
And then, somehow, my deep beliefs were swayed
Perplexed that you’d desire the real Me . . .
And now the front has gone, I’m pleased to make
Acquaintance to my Self for my own sake.