We have met once before.
You lined the sky.
Mostly with blue.
Sometimes with pastels.
You threw up clouds.  
Smiled translucent rays.
Exhale fresh of lavender fields.
Let me explore you.
Run through you like a field.
Embracing every grace me with your presence.
Soak into me with your intoxication.
Fill me up from every pour.
Step into this.
Get me lost.
Deep into your winding paths.
Pour out of me.
Spit love off my fingertips.
So I can touch things with true love.
Let me be something.
More than anything I want to be your something.
Filled up and dripping with acceptance.

Love, well love is like a good cup of coffee

We all want to drink it without getting burnt

Hidden away in cabins far away.

Secrets never known by that day.

Desperately discovering passageways.

Dusty paths full of haze.

Ever filled veins of constant liquids.

Fill me up. Behind the curtains.

Ship me to a new destination.

A place of wonderment.

Pulverize my intentions into thin air.

Let me purify this heart of mine.

Cleaning up all the dusty particles I left.

I will become new.

A full and complete set of working parts.

Using these to experience this moment I keep passing.

Ripping the curtains of veiled ignorance.

Open enough for my heart to see.  

Operating on redefined schedules under new management.

The oil patch slips I nailed down were quickly navigated.

My heart let it sink in.

The possibility of a home that would never change.

It is the twisted teal torrents of water
That gush through its heart.
It is the paint on the walls
And the Ancient museums full of art.
It’s the beauty of the city center
The shops and the boutiques.
It’s the bells of the green trams,
Winding down the cobblestone streets.
It’s the wind on my back
And the sun on my face
It’s the way when I go out,
Hours are lost without a trace
It’s the people floating down the river
In the heat of the year.
It’s my feeling of security,
Because here there’s nothing to fear.
It’s all the unique traditions,
Passed down from generations.
It’s the faces of the people,
One from every nation.
It’s the feeling I get
When I just walk around.
When I take in what’s around me
The sights and the sounds.
It’s the knowledge that
In this city I have grown.
It’s all the things I’ve learned,
That I may never have known.
It’s when I sit still in my room,
And know that there’s so much left to explore.
It’s the opportunities I have
To do things I’ve never done before.
It’s the archaic beige bridge
That stands down town.
It’s that path we like to walk,
Or that cute cafe we found.
It’s those beautiful books I bought,
The ones I know I’ll never read.
It’s the happiness that comes
With the quiet life I lead.
It’s how much more there is to discover,
So much beauty I’ve yet to see.
It’s that feeling of contentment
When you know you’re where you’re meant to be
The more I learn about this city,
The more my heart desires to stay
And know I may be wrong,
But I think this could be home someday.

I pick you up in my hand
A red apple from the cart
I turn you over and run my hands along your curves
I see your beauty
I see it speckled with imperfections
Red so deep
Like crimson
You look so sweet
But there is much you could be hiding
I toss you in the air
and catch you
I see the sun reflect off your polished surface
I see your dark spots absorb the sun
I twist your stem and take it
I smell your skin
and estimate your circumfrence
All around me they are filling their bags
to be measured
piling them full
taking so many of you without a second thought
But I have many thoughts
I wonder
and I wonder
Who you are really
I don't see you like they see you
I don't know you like they think they do
I'm not like them
at all
Are you what I am looking for?
Oh, small red apple
Will you show me who I am?
Will you help me or harm me?
Will you liberate me or cage me?
Will I find in you my identity?
Are you what I truly want?
Perhaps I will buy you,
or
Perhaps I will leave you
or
Perhaps I will continue to hold you and wonder
until we both rot away.

I look into myself and see only an accumulation
of lost objects
Piles of beautiful, forgotten documents
unusable
but loved for what they are
I am the words on a tea-stained music sheet
that mean nothing
and yet
you turn them over eternally in your mind
because there's something about that
sequence of syllables
that makes them
irresistible.
Look at my shelves and see my soul
Repeat my words and learn my essence,
Home is knowing who you are.

Sudbury rain falls down
dark sky
Scan the horizon and sigh
for this will be the very final time you're here.
The scene's been shot and that's a wrap
this set's no longer needed.
Childhood chapter closed,
Completed.
Finality fills the air.
Its a muffled desperation
Constricted respiration
Soft precipitation
Around a promised revelation.
Nothing's immortal,
but there are things that should be,
So engrained within the depths of me
How could this not be forever?
Constance crumbles,
inconsistent.
What was near has become distant
and it all flashes in an instant
Then I'm gone
Driving down dirt streets
Slow-sad soundtrack
and melancholic heartbeats
Wishing I could hit repeat
on the past seventeen years
Hating myself for held-back tears
and lost time.
But let me look at this as liberation
I shall be a new creation
Slow and steady celebration
of my sentimental inclination
I shall take this as I stride
onto greater things
Bearing each blow that life brings
Remembering what Here taught me.
Don't let this fade,
Oh, Don't let these things fade
Let my soul be a slightly altered shade
for having known Here
for having felt this land
having had it fill the fractures in my bones
having adored it,
every single, solitary stone
having never been overwhelmingly alone
because I knew Here was still Here.
Well now it's not.
Memory leaves me broken and blind
I've always been the one running away
I don't think I'm very fond of being left behind.