The last time I dreamed about you
I planted the dream in soil.
When I fell asleep and woke up.
I believed you to have grown,
Like any other flower.
Even if you turned out
to be a rose,
I didn’t mind the ***** of a thorn.
When I wiped my eyes
There was a cactus in the soil.
There are good dreams
And there are bad dreams.
Most bad dreams start off good.
Then become prickly and cold.
I didn’t care.
I lugged you around with me
everywhere.
Pulling out the spines
that stuck me.
No matter where we went
I considered them kisses
From you to me,
And me, I considered my dream
A reality.
Then you got larger.
Then you got heavier.
That happy lug turned to a hard pull.
And those cute little ******
Turned into being stabbed.
there’s a reason why most cactus’
Are found in the desert.
And why some dreams
Are just like a cactus

I found a rainbow
In the middle of the night.
Stripes of color that look like it burst through the sky.
It cut through the clouds and took over the buildings.
There’s something different about the night.
At times, everything can seem dead.
But it has its pieces of heaven.
Indigo, blue, red, yellow, and purple.
All dressed bright, Standing on the corner,
Like everyone else that wasn’t asleep.
I suppose that it needed a place to hang out too.

The bend wasn’t as curved as the one you’ll see
Through the day.
It was relaxed and positioned in the sky,
in the way I supposed you would press your back
against the wall.
Then, just like that, It was gone.
Like a pretty woman with somewhere to go

I watch,
And I pull different pieces
Of her out the bowl.
Somewhat tangled and a bit messy.
I twist her all up even more,
And put her in my mouth.
The steam rising fresh from her.
My mouth catches her,
All of her.
Hot, slightly salty.
I love the way she makes me feel.
Eventually, her ways will become mine.
She isn't just some mess in a bowl.
And although I am hungry,
The pieces of her that I drag to my mouth. Are moderate.
I've never tasted anything like this
Before.
She isn't just a quick bite
Of temporary need.
My tongue, my gut,
My soul loves this tangled goodness.
She is my safe space

I don't want to miss
How good your skin feels
In the dark,
When no one else is around
Except our breath.
And we can breathe.

Opinions are just that.
But at the same time, I know,
I don't want to miss out.

I know how bad it feels to show up
Late, and "goodbye" is the last thing
You want to hear.
I don't want to miss out on the
Dark parts of you,
The parts of you that fit
Between the empty space of my
Fingers.
No matter how dark,
There's always a place for you.
It doesn't replace how soft you
Actually are.
It's not for the world to see
They can see whatever they want to.
When it comes to you,
I am not the world.
And I don't want to miss out

The moon swallows the sun,
And for a second,
Everything becomes that much darker.
Nothing moves. Silence looks around,
Confused, looking for a sound.

Her lips touch mine,
And the world stops.
I felt my breath leave my body.
I felt her body through her lips.
My throat the only thing that stops.
My heart spilling over into her mouth.

The silence around leans closer,
Looking for a sound. Any smack,
Any slurp we could give to feed
Its hunger.
We kissed like everything in us
Filled the gaps between the stars.
When it was over,
Only a handful of people could tell you
What an eclipse looks like

I am waiting on an angel.
I’ve paced around in wait
and feel no closer to when I first started
pacing.
no call, no signs of anything that smells like perfume.
she promised she'd be here.
maybe she's stuck in traffic,
or maybe she's the kind of angel
that doesn’t keep promises.

the last time I prayed I asked for a roof
over my head.
it took a while. it took an awfully long time.
my hands were shaking.
just when I was about to give up.
I got my house.
I have that same feeling.
god knows that I am waiting,
no matter how bad my hands are shaking.

still, I wait.
I don’t know how wings feel against skin,
or how soft they are,
but somehow, I believe she is near.
if she is not.
I do believe that something beautiful is possible.
even if angels have a sense of humor

I smell the wild on you.
How the snow is caked in your fur.
When the night falls, what does
It offer besides survival.
And the means to be something
besides human.
We're stuck here somewhere where
The earth has broken.
And the cold envelopes everything it
Touches.
You stand there in the snow
Teeth bared.
Not afraid to go at it once more.
I've grown tired, so very tired.
Your eyes burn the snow.
That fierce longing to stay alive.
What else does the night offer,
We've consumed pretty much
everything else except each other.
And I am tired of fighting.
Nothing pretty survives out here alone,
In the dark.
Together, you and I nestled in each other's warm.
When hunger subsides.
We'll find it in each other