There's an infinite number of lifetimes
Carved out by my choices, the way water cuts through stone
That lead to countless versions of myself Each beautiful, each unique
Like the multicolored pebbles found in a thousand year old river bed

Yet, if given the choice
I would always find my way back to you

You,
Laying half asleep next to me in the warm glow of afternoon light
Our son dreaming quietly nestled between us, our feet tangled together below
A hazy contentment in your eyes while you ask me what I'd like for lunch
And a lone kiss, more intimate in its singularity than anything I've ever felt before.

Can you imagine the way your heart might mend
Abruptly awakening to a dark, inky Sky
Your sleepy eyes seeing more stars than you knew existed
Stealing the breath from your lungs all at once as they spill across the night like milk

Imagine the strength you might secure
Climbing through bottomless, unfamiliar Canyons
Feeling millions of years slide across your calloused palms, timeless
The Earth safely embracing you against Her warm, red rocks

Imagine the love that might swell within you
Watching the River spark, then ignite, with the flame of the setting Sun
Her gentle ripples reflecting magic back into your humbled, Human eyes
Her ever-steady flow beneath your wavering feet

Imagine the beauty you might behold
To come upon a bushel of prickly pears, purple like plums
Set atop a vibrantly flourishing Cacti like a thorny crown
The taste of their sweetness lingering on your tongue for hours

But,

Imagine the same way your heart might break
To turn away from the intense heat of an unforgiving Sun
As Her rays beat down on your reddened skin, relentless
Searing you until you're cracked, bleeding, and raw

Imagine the fragility you might feel
As the Canyon's loose pebbles send you flying, tumbling downwards
Her soft curves turning into sharp edges
That leave you bruised, scraped, and defeated

Imagine the fear that might overwhelm you
As you lay yourself down to sleep, alone on the cold sand of a beach
The torrential roaring of the River's rapid crashing on below your head
Screaming forgotten heartaches throughout your dreams

Imagine the ugliness you might witness
As you reach too quickly for the Cacti's unripened fruit
Her bone-like spines piercing your skin, leaving such a powerful ache
It stings long, long after it's gone.

There are a handful of tiny mice living in my home
Gray, like ash
Spilling from holes in the walls and abundant cracks in the foundation
They have been gnawing away at me
For far too long now
Yet, I allow them to continue
Out of pity
And a bottomless loneliness that consumes me

At times, I have loved each of these mice
So deeply
Given them my everything
Taken their companionship with open arms
Fed them, held them, existed quietly amongst their filth

But recently, I feel they may not be as beneficial to my well-being as once thought
I find myself more often than not
Aggressively snarling
Perpetually weeping
Continuously irritated
And utterly defeated as they scurry back and forth over me
Again and again and again  

They tear apart my pallid flesh
Pry away tufts of matted fur for their little nests
Nibble away at minuscule, almost unnoticeable parts of me
Turning my bones to a chalky dust that fills the air and makes it impossible to breathe
I am merely a ragged shadow of myself, now

But finally, I crack
Bare my sharpened teeth
Furiously grind my jaw
I claw and claw and claw
Until I open my eyes
Glance around
And see that I’m the only one making myself bleed

Just like that, they scramble away in terror
Only returning every once in awhile
To peek through the sagging drapes of my windows
And under the sill of my doors
But never again entering

I rest peacefully in complete silence for the first time in years
Splayed across the barren floor, alone
And desperately wishing I would have realized sooner
That mice are easily scared by wolves.

Ambling along a well-known path through a well-known forest
I cross a tepid creek I’ve swam in dozens of times
Pass an old, weathered tree with my name carved into the side
And turn a sharp bend I know leads to home
But,
I come to a sudden halt as something foreign rises into my sight

A golden lion
Caged by beautiful, deeply rusted wrought iron with thick emerald vines twisting upward toward the sky
Giving the impression it’s been here for years, somehow, without me noticing

From a distance, a seemingly comfortable looking cage, filled with familiar amenities
The lion gazes into a broken mirror resting in the corner
And appears content
But I sense this is all the lion has ever known

I take a timid step into the desolate prison this lion calls his kingdom
I caress his flaxen mane tenderly, for what I know is the first time in a long while  
Trying to depict how glorious it is outside the cage
All the wondrous places I could show him
The joy in feeling fresh air and warm sunshine on his sallow skin
But he roars at me in response, sending a thundering shock through me
Irate that I would ever suggest anywhere in the world could be better than his “luxurious” cage

With that roar, I watch ice splinter outward from his broad chest and creep up his arms
Before settling like a soft blanket of morning frost on his shoulders
It’s suddenly cold and I feel as if I should depart, knowing that he would never ask me to leave himself
But I’ll become complacent too
If I stay here

So I turn away with heavy feet and accept there’s nothing I can do
No light bright enough to make him see
No words loud enough to make him hear

As I grow old and eventually return to the Earth, he stays in his cage and paces for a hundred years
And a hundred more after that
A constant pang of regret filling him to the brim and overflowing from his hungry eyes
Never knowing
Always wondering
With only the white noise of the forest
And the sound of his pounding, lonely heart

So here you are.

Mingled in with all my other far-fetched fantasies
Of composing epic poems and
Traveling to romantic cities and
Laughing much too loud over expensive wine

You have always presented yourself to me just out of reach
Unattainably attainable
Slinking out of sight behind the crumbling brick of my dreams

Could you ever forgive me for this poem?
My words seem to fall all wrong, don't they?
What do you expect though,
When you've made yourself so ineffable to me?

How could I ever describe the tender heaviness in your longing glances across untouchable boundaries?
With what words am I allowed to illustrate the wind rising sharply against the silent night where I stand alone in the trees and burn for you?
Is there an alphabet emotionally eloquent enough to depict our undeclared flame of devotion?

It's taken me years, but I'm beginning to piece it all together
Perhaps it's the way I can feel your eyes burning in my mind, though your gaze remains averted where you stand before me
Or the way you touch me in my subconscious with hands I can never hold in my own
Speak encouragingly to me with a voice I haven't heard in years, and may never hear again

Even as your path drifts far from mine, and numerous lifetimes pass us by
We can always meet again
At the Yellow House or
the Green Room or
the White Bed:
The places where you changed me.

And when I'm sitting in a bar drinking a glass of Chateau Lafite
Somewhere in Paris
Writing an epic poem and laughing much, much too loud

I'll take solace knowing you're thinking of me, too
In your own far fetched fantasies of what could have been.

Looking in your eyes
Is just the same as traveling through time
Hurtling backwards through days, weeks, years
And lifetimes of memories
Hidden just behind the dark burnt umber of your irises

The smell of your breath as you kiss me
Sitting on a canyon ledge in the dark

The feel of your thumb gliding across my bottom lip
Successfully making me tremble under your touch

The sound of your voice in my ear, a noise I am instinctively aware of
Judging your distance from me based upon the decibel

The taste of river water in my mouth as we crash through a wave
Moving together in sync without speaking a word

The sight of your face, beaming as you turn your head on the count of
One…two…three!
Your smile burning just for me, forever engraved into my heart

As we grow older, our lives melting into one
As the excitement of an adventure turns into a daily contentedness next to one another
As the intense electricity of our passion lulls into a slow simmer of unconditional love

I can always turn to you
Gaze into your eyes
And experience every one of our moments together
With the same vividness, in the greatest of detail
All over again.

It seems the world has become quite occupied
With the task of making beds

As if the daily fluffing
And tucking
And straight lines
Could make our time here on Earth
Any less hard

As for me, I've come to think
Beds look much more inviting
With it's sheets rippled across the wooden floor
The contours of it's folds casting shadows in the places light cannot gleam
Tapering off like the last line of a romantic poem

There's something positively dreamy
About ornate pillows, beaded and embroidered
Carelessly tossed about
Yet landing in such a manner, you find you have created art

It's as if the bed itself speaks
A gentle reminder
Of how you lay the night before
The imprint of your body still untouched
Still unmade

As if you could crawl back in at any moment
Settle into its grooves
Completely disappear into the previous moment
Drift back into a ray of morning sun
Instead of the lonely haze of dusk that has settled in your place.