I saw him in the candlelight
With his elbows resting on his legs
His head facing the ground
And his eyes closed. Tightly.
So tightly they refused to be opened
To acknowledge that mine were there
Looking straight at his face
For the very first time.
It was as if he'd found something
More powerful than even him
To sit in reverence of.
And the candlelight tricked me
Into believing that too.
I could see light dance off of every inch of his face.
No smile.
No expression.
Just his mouth moving with every whisper
And his eyes shut tight.
I looked away but stayed focused
On the corner of my eye where I could see his back
Move up and down
With every
Single
Breath.
And I thought to myself how incredible
To fall in love with the man
That only God and I had the privilege to see.

It's not stealing.
More like glorified borrowing
Of things that glitter
Like stars in the fresh
Alcoholic
Night sky.
Or better yet.
Merciful adoption
Of the abandoned
Reaching out
to my
More than willing fingers.
I was antiquing in the future
For things that decorate
The background
Of nights that represent
Desperation and regret.
It's not stealing.
It's *claiming memories

Let's have an affair over thousands of miles.
I know you through the words you've written down,
Which tell me you are equal parts baffled and fascinated
By the billions of minds that make up this crazy, crazy world we live in.
I'm asking you to take off your work uniform slowly and deliberately
So I can see where you've tattooed all of those nights smoking *** and laughing on your chest.
And I promise not to be intimidated by the black spot next to your heart
Inked in fully with the names of every girl you've brought home
And used as a muse those weeknights you just wanted to love something.
I don't fear your short, crisp lines filled with inside jokes you're dying to share
With anyone who isn't you.
I don't fear a little bit of darkness or loneliness.
I only fear that I'll never be able to feel your breath on my neck as we sway back and forth
Cloaked in smoke laying on a bed of aluminum and grease-stained shirts.
Or I'll never be able to run my hand along your chest as your lungs fill up with the sweet smell of rain.
I don't know you, but I like to imagine that you're a cliche ocean of depth and passion
That wants to do right by anyone who will do right by him.
So let's do this, let's have a cross country love affair of the senses
And feel each other like we're just learning what it means to touch.

Her name was Margot and she was followed by a band of faceless nothings.
Only bodies with heads and mouths that sang dreamy, sad songs into a can on a string.
Wandering the earth hoping to hear back that nothing is lost
Nothing is lost.
Go back to sleep darlings nothing is lost.

She fell in love with words on a page written down like a cry for help.
Because she felt them move inside of her and stop her very heart from beating.
She could feel them hammer into her veins and tiptoe through her brain
As they nested ideas and thoughts into her mind about the man who wrote them.
Like he was sitting somewhere in the dark etching his feelings into the air with his own sweat
She could feel him.
Using only the words he wrote down with the ink he barely had left on the last page of the journal he carries
To and from his days as a student or a business-man, or a drifter. A loner.
Who whispers sweet nothings into the air like a spider's egg explodes into infinity with children
And the wind carries them gracefully to her eyes somehow.
She dreams about the words flowing through her fingertips onto the last page of her journal
That she carries to and from her days as a student, business-woman, drifter. A loner.
She hasn't let one single laugh escape from her lips, or a smile appear on her face.
Not while the words she needs to breathe cling to some forsaken wind across the country
Looking for her in the moonlight, written with an unknown desire to be with her.

He said "I'm moving to Ohio.
Won't be long now.
It's a thousand degrees inside of this train and all I got
Is this coffee you gave me.
See you're from this land
With an office, and air conditioning.
And a job.
But all I got is this cup of coffee you gave me."
I said "what's in Ohio?"
He said "nothing. But here I lost $4,000 for smoking some ****.
Just a itty-bitty joint"
Then he motioned with his fingers. No more than the scar on my elbow.
"and that DUI." He adds
Under his breath.
"Yes ma'am. I'm moving to Ohio.
One day I'll see you on the news and I'll say
'I know that girl. She gave me a free cup of coffee, iced.'
And I'll be so proud of you.
I'll say 'I met that girl in a thousand degree train'.
Sure, Ohio ain't no L.A.,
But neither is this place."