The one you seek, hides.
You linger about searching.
Pink packets of sugar.

A leaf blew downtown
Amongst hands pages flew
Floating about a clean breeze

I remember you
The day we met dreams came true
Thanks to you I smile

I searched high for you,
I lost hope.
I buried my heart deep.

It was there that she kept me in the top most part of her eye.
A small room with a mid size window. 
A wooden chair that sat on a circular brown rug.
She kept the curtain open. Closing them only at night.
She'd flick the light switch on.
Bringing about photo album after photo album.
Pieced together in perfect memory.
She'd often fall asleep in mid sentence.
Reminding herself of why she loved this room the most.
Surrounding herself in the light that peeped through the window.
It was here where she kept me among all of her favorite colors.
Sharing with me the way she saw the world.
Soon as the sun peeped through the window

In the topic of magazines.
I sat on the cover, close to the reflection of her eyes.
Relaxed in the greeting of open arms.

She paused, sitting upright. 
The gap between us now closer.
Allowing the invitation of smiles.
Our upright becoming a corner staple in the edge of anticipation.

We both sat.

Allowing ourselves to do what came natural.
My reflection seen clear in the middle of her eyes.
Her personality pasted all around me.

No currency was exchanged in the beauty of two souls flipping to page 42.
Reading the full article.
Taking our time not to wrinkle the pages.
Moving from the cover to emotional commitment.
The exchange of excitement
Where she was free to be herself just as I.

Ideally, I reread every paragraph.
Falling in love with everything represented to be pharmaceutical to deep need.
Constantly reading then rereading the same passages over and over.
Hiding myself behind the cover.
Wanting to know more

My heart took deep seat.
Relaxing in the comfort of plush cushion.
Neck twisted, head tucked comfortably in the nook of the chair.
A glass of water sitting on the edge of the coffee table next to the remote control.
T.V Turned low, movie charterers playing reverse roles.
Not every day does it have a chance to relax the way it does.
Rarely finding time to take a day off.
Legs dangling from the plush chair brought on sale.
My hearts face covered in the glow shone from the T.V.
Long stretched wrinkles finally at ease. Slumped over in the ease of relaxed eyebrows.
There my heart sits in comfort.
Dishes washed. Trash taken out.
Waiting for his wife to slide the key in the door.
After a long day's work

Times like this I'd search the bed for her.
To throw my arm around her.
Kiss her in mid sleep.
The comfort of warm blankets.
Knowing that shes that warm lump, kept warm between two sheets, a blanket, and my warmth.
My arm becoming heavier by the moment.
Some nights she'll turn to me.
My arms forming a slight bend curving behind her, her arms stretched underneath mine.
Before losing total consciousness,
We'd hold each other in our arms before waking up, bodies spread everywhere.
Her leg draped over me.
Our bodies dead to the world.
At times like this we depended on the weight of each other,
To fill the gasp of what made us most comfortable

The next time we meet, I may be someone else.
 
Extra thick, light in weight.
Resourced to fit purpose.
 
The next time we meet,
I may be a splint. Easy to light.
The next time we meet.
Would silence truly do us justice.
Learning to cope before given reason.
 
Rounded off at the top, rough patterns felt between us both.
A spark that ignites the scrape of when I fell for you.
 
We stood there because we knew how we felt, we never truly understood.
Collecting ourselves in abrupt fire. Only a fool would stand to wither completely.
 
What else did we truly know but to extinguish ourselves in the same abrupt manner.
Breathing in each others essence. Stained in soot.
 
We lived in sulfur, sliming down in the same instance.
 Lighting myself before becoming contagious.
I thought this way because it was all I'd ever know

I let go.
Finding that I still care.
Placing blame as a means to cope with how I felt towards you.
The rush of things that have transpired.
The thought of things that may not be the same.
In turn I lashed out in self defense in every argument you started.
Receding every inch of my heart.
Every inch that I shared with you.
In that moment all you saw was disappointment.
That not of my own.
A deep hurt that signified love in a tender moment of hurt.
A rash thought that just wanted to grab you & shake you until you understood.
Meanwhile screaming on the inside.
Screaming for you to realize that nothing could take the place of what I felt for you.
Screaming internally for this pain to go back to the smile it use to know so adamantly.
With nothing else to do, I let go.
Falling forever in thought.
Feeling my life crash against the ground.
Nothing mattered at that time except how you perceived me.
That deep well of affection that I so wanted to fall into again and again.
That somehow that I tarnished everything that we shared.
Until I realized that you never intended to feel the way that I felt about you.
That you sought a shoulder to lean on in your own leisure.
A temporary fix

And there I was.
Another American lost on the road.
The traffic slowed to the bare minimum.
Slim to none at the barricade of an orange and black detour sign.
Upon turning I lost signal to my phone.
The social climb of bars dropping to a small X.
It's crazy how something so convenient could be detoured so easily.
The distractions that occur along the way.
A straight path with a few twists and turns.
Without the beam of flashing lights and signs.
I wouldn't have found a new way home.
Unless I knew someone that stayed down this street I would never have turned.
A more scenic, peace devoted route without the distractions of answering the phone or adjusting the radio.
The temporary fix of building home else where, in someone elses arms.
The corridor of ears.
Relying on the siding of someone's voice to house what is thought to roof all of me.
Switching lanes, finding the right material

If I gave you my love.
You'd have to be good to me.
All the freak things to be explored.
One moment after the next.
If I gave you my love.
All the things I'd tell you.
The nights where I'd be nowhere but by your side.
The nights I'd wear you out, wake you up and wear you out again.
If I gave you my love.
I'd want the same thing tomorrow and the day after.
All the trouble we'd get into.
If I gave you my love.
I wouldn't need a doctor.
To heal all these aches and pains.
My morning flower.
To see how good it feels.
Being in my care.
If only you knew.
How much I do.
Want to give you my love

I took a deep breath.
Following the mystery of a simple smell.
A familiar place taken deep within my lungs.
A perfume light scented but sweet.
She'd dab it around the rounds of her neck.
Twice on her wrists.
The wind spreading her essence to my nose.
Following a glare then a smile.
Just when I thought there was nothing left to share.
She'd bathe in dial antibacterial.
Cleasing her neck of a smell that I remember so vividly.
A perfume light scented but sweet.
The smile and bite of a quivering bottom lip.
Just when I thought that nothing else could be shared.
Someone walked passed with a familiar scent.
Taking me back to a familiar feeling that I only felt when I was around you

Tomorrow I said that I'll soak and bathe in the middle of your heart.
That I'll remove clothes from skin.
Then run my hands underneath the faucet then take hand to soap.
Tomorrow I said that I'll find another book to not read and sit it up on top the shelf.
Giving you my undivided.
Lying in water surrounded by creme colored porcelain.
A wash rag and a bar of soap made of your smile.
Tomorrow I said that I'll be more of a talker.
Especially in the moments of silence that become instant memories.
The silence being but a moment to embrace a time where words do no justice.
Long soap foam beard. Soap foam covering each follicle of hair on top of our heads.
I know tomorrow I said that I would do all of this and more.
But why wait when now is just as good as time as any.
Cleansing myself in you

Social Anxiety
 
I think love is a lot like us.
In truth, it's hard.
At least for me. To reach into my heart and pull each thought
Like some sort of note, to resort to the most simplistic of notion.
It all seems so simple.
To walk up towards the one we love and tell them how we truly feel.
At least for me.
To be honest I don't think it's entirely the thought of being rejected.
But the actual declaration and the realization that everything that you hope and dream
stares back at you and it's not reciprocated where imagination meets reality.
At least for me.
Reaching back into my heart and scrambling around for another note.
The small things in an ocean of thought that could go wrong.
The sudden rush of thoughts that prevent such circumvention.
The first step of telling you that I love you.
At least for me.
Seeing your face again, makes it so much easier.
Knowing that you would never let me drown

I was mute.
Responding to the silence in-between the dial tone.
A new proposal of a new unlimited data plan.
I don't know how many gigs equate to the amount of anticipation.
Sitting in silence.
Phone pressed against my ear waiting to the sound of your voice.
The smell of stair-fry coming from an oval pan.
The smell of darkened beef and steamed vegetables sizzling by a *** of rice.
Boiling over in anticipation

She was four and I was six.
We held hands and ate pixie stix.
The big head little girl whom followed me around the corner. 
Soon we became friends.

 

We held hands with skin like bricks.
I cleansed her hands inside mine.
The words we didn't know how to pronounce until we were older.
The house across the street covered in thick brick.
Our parents always pictured us together.

 

I cleansed her hands inside of mine. 
The big head little girl across the street.
Her hair in a tight colorful scrunchy. Hair spread all over her head.
We both had to be in before the street lights came on.
Head full of dirt.faces darker than they were before we met each other outside.



Our clothes covered in dirt and grime.
Our fingers filled with splinters.
The chime of laughs and smiles.
The big headed girl whom loved pink and purple pixie stix whom followed me around until the street lights came on.
She always gave me the blue ones and called me her friend.



I remember the time I never wanted you to follow me around.
Often threatening to feed you to my dog.
Pushing you off the swing.
Stealing your turn sliding down the slide.
You never let me go anywhere alone.



Here I am, now older. Picturing the big headed messy hair girl whom always followed me around.
Truthfully I never minded.
Even now, ringing your doorbell in thought

Her heart was like a clock that I wanted to stop and rewind the dial back.
Remembering the beginning.
Following the curve of ticks as everything around disappeared.
The ticks and tonks that throb as pulse.
The blossom of smiles and times that reflected off glass.
To live in the darkness of closed eyes and reflect on genuine smiles.
The whirlwind of dials advancing into a darkness we both never knew.
A familiar scent becoming a door.
Her heart a clock filled with different size springs and dials.
A circular cubicle that sped fast.
A theory of time.
Her heart was a clock that I wanted to stop and wind back the dial to the beginning.
Across arms and lines that separated how much time has really passed

Her heart was like the eye of a needle and I the thread.
Stuck between *******, each time I'd get close.
I'd veer too far left or too far right, never in-between.
Nervous in motion A thin thread roped in ambition.
Though I loved her deeply I couldn't get her to see.
No matter how hard I'd try I always missed the loop to her heart.
The cold steel that looped in oval shape.
I've made peace with the thought that nothing lasts forever and though thread.
I've binded myself in knots, wondering if she ever saw me the way that I saw her, everlasting.
Believing that we could be woven in the thickest of bonds.
I loved her with the entirety of my everything I had to give.
Without arms I had nothing to hold above her head.
But no matter how many times I missed her.
Her shoulder became colder and colder.
My thread torn seam from seam.
It wasn't until then that I learned that somethings are better left untouched.

Every day I am leaping higher
Jumping from brown blocks and green pipes.
From the pluck of fire flowers steams this passion that I pursue So adamantly.
Question mark filled boxes highlighted yellow.
Flickering on and off.
The alchemy of white gloves, stomping and flipping the backs of turtles.
Small mushroom men with small feet.
Flying bullets of unusual size.
Large man eating plants.
I no longer fear the height of odd shaped trees, and small collapsing bridges.
What I fear most are the walls of empty castles.
Flying bullets and funny shaped ghost.
Soon to attack soon as I turn my back.
Lava filled pits. Huge block castles.
Torn blue coveralls. Dull and weathered black boots.
The slip of a shoe and everything I know comes to an end.
Still,
I travel land, sea, desert, space.
No matter what adversity,
In search of a princess that I love so adamantly.
No matter how long the journey

A cloud floats by.
She smiles a rainbow.
Tearing the wrap off a red paper bag.
She closes her eyes.
Tight as they'll squeeze.
Tasting her fantasy from hand to mouth.
Who knew a rainbow could taste so good.
The flavor of each color melting in her mouth.
She's in love.
Standing on top the rainbow.
Swishing around a kaleidoscope of flavor.
She's lost in the taste.
Her mind is at ease.
Until the next time her crush passes with ease.

I was a stranger, one whom forgot to say thank you.
She beat my hand to the door. Holding it open as I walked past.
It totally slipped my mind. Rushing to make it outside before my uber left.
Too drunk to drive.
My mind totally in another place.
She was much as a stranger as I.
A beautiful smile passed in a blur.
Soon as I turned around she was gone.
It crossed my mind to knock on every door until I saw her face.
Life is far from a movie, nine times out of ten her boyfriend would have answered the door.
Some strange looking dude with every right to be protective, uneven line.
Dingy basketball shorts.
Soon to leave moments after I do.
The color of my shirt standing out in an all white hall.
Finally complying to my uber driver's yell.
I figured that tomorrow is tomorrow.
But if I see her again that would be perfect.
Mentioning that I forgot to say "Thank you"

She was an adventuress.
I'd visit her, though far.
Before we grew apart I'd send letters.
Head leaned back. That old familiar pillow.
That familiar smell of home. The letter I wrote always carried that familiar smell, although far away.
She promised she'd return. Home to a place of comfort.
I knew she found home a long time ago.
Single reason I too became a traveler.
Forgetting where I placed the keys to the house.
Finding a separate road that rounded and round, walking fast I hurried.
Finding the opposite direction more peaceful.
The sky more bluer.
That old pillow no longer familiar.
Until I inherited land and built a house.
Away from the window of her eye

With a body made of paper, he went outside to feel the drops of rain.
Leaving behind an aluminum roof, cardboard siding.
He extended his arm feeling the calmness of her splash. Exploding into a million more drops.
It began to rain harder. With her granting his very wish.
He stood there for a moment. Rain drenching him with an excitement he'd never before felt.
He fell to the ground in a puddle of her longing.
She pressed her face against his neck and cried.
His blue and red lines began to melt. Trailing down into the puddle.
He weighed himself in her depth, feeling the ripple of her hand lap against his face.
He suffocated in that moment.
Unfolding himself against her curve,
Loosing form of his body. His tongue in tune with hers.
Epsom salt to the ache of sore muscles.
This was the effect she had on him.
The first time him facing an outer body experience.
Floating about until they both evaporated.
With him holding every drop of her, until there was nothing left
Baptized within each others temple
Heads folded down. Enveloping each other

Last night I stayed up counting every time that I've wished for you.
Then I came to my senses that there wasn't a need to wish anymore.
Then I came to the realization that I inhale you with each thought.
That I've come to trust the hours I spend talking to you about any and everything.
Finding your smile in perfect company.
Allowing myself to be the circumstance that makes your cheeks rise the most.
In vivid imagination. Seeing you before I close my eyes.
Truth is last night I stayed up making countless wishes to reassure that what I wished for the most stayed in the countless hours that we spend talking to each other.
The adventures we take traveling through each other's mind.
Finding it much easier to breathe with each mile we hike.
Even if I have to hold my breath until my face turns blue.
Thank you for giving me the breath of you, I appreciate each and every moment that you do.
And I promise not to exhale until the next breath is presented

Freedom of speech is to reiterate the liberty I feel when I am around you.
Freedom of speech is to reinforce through verbal communication that I miss you.
Rather than the silence of closed lips, concealing every heartfelt thought that tears away at my heart that goes without notice.
To hear you reply with not only your words but the reaction of your eyes.
The openness of your body. To heal this incurable ache.
Through verbal stimulation only can this freedom be heard through longing ears.
To hear you say the things you keep near and dear to your heart.
This universe that you keep inside swirling between your ears.
The orbit of your heart, longing and throbbing with a life of it's own.
This freedom which I speak liberates the soul.
Keeping things inside otherwise felt in death.
The regret of keeping things inside that should have been spoke into existence.
Otherwise how else would you know the taste of this freedom spoke from my lips.
This freedom that echoes loud and clear that reinforces action.
To voice opinion. To live, to love.
This freedom which I speak I need you to hear with closed eyes and an open heart.
To reinforce this love I have for you. To constantly place pieces of me inside of you.
To return to me the same freedom that I hope to instill in you

Everyone attempts to put a price on everything.
From jobs, to going on vacation.
Fluctuating gas prices, the necessities we can't live without. The cost of everything is going up.
There really isn't too much that people haven't put a stature to the almighty dollar which constantly diminishes everyday.
We barely have enough time as it is without hustling trying to make time for the things that we truly care about and seem to neglect, having to constantly look at the clock.
It robs us of the sincerity that follows.
A genuine smile that is very courteous but is also rushed at the same time.
Somehow we've come to the idea that we need a certain amount of money to truly enjoy ourselves.
Big businesses know this very well.
They expect us to cling on to the vast images that we see flashed in front of us in subliminal advertisement.
Via television, social media, or word of mouth without realizing that too much time has already passed.
About the only thing we truly take for granted are the moments that we finally remember to breathe and cherish the very same moments we remember to smile.
Forgetting who we are in the process of trying to make ends meet while maintaining the perception if it's ever enough.
If at all possible, today I want you to press pause on the things that make you smile
And live in that moment for as long as possible.
As it doesn't cost a thing to smile, it doesn't cost a thing to greet someone with a genuine embrace.
It doesn't cost a thing to sit back and breathe for a second or two.
Set a limit to how much you give of yourself.
Because those whom take, will only continue to take

Don't forget the goal.
True love is powerful and not to be taken lightly.
It's hard to reveal your all to a complete stranger without assurance.
To be fully accepted, to hold to have in complete comfort.
Don't let go of the way your heart beats.
Let it flourish, grow from the stem and fill the petals with something wholesome.
Dreams are built within dreams.
The thought that leads to action.
Take the reigns.
The stem only knows to grow.
Provided with enough sun.
Enough water.
Dispite whatever obstacle.
It grows over, it grows through even under.
It takes form and even grows with a bend.
Nevertheless.
It grows.
Covered in sheets spread and enveloped in the bud of petals.
In arms reach of each other.
Through sickness and in health,
In perfect communication.
Through dirt, through the mud
Not only in bad weather but the days where the sun shines its brightest.
With thorns to protect,
It feeds the nature of balance which stimulates more growth.
Never forget the goal

Her leg was my favorite tree to lean against.
Most times I'd lean my back there and listen to her for hours.
I'd stare at the pattern of clouds that hovered above my head.
The wind sweeping beneath her dress in  perfect amount of shade.
The rustle of fabric against skin.
Here I felt I could be myself. 
I found peace in an abundance of silence.
Turned the opposite way, her roots.
I rested my head against redwood skin.
Free to be myself.
She was my sanctuary.
Standing still in her strength. I became a part of her,
Sitting still.
listening to her intently, the debris left behind from most storms.
I'd take my time, to help fix the broken branches.
Keeping weeds as far from her as I could.
Learning to compromise in a moment of trust, leaning my head against her lower leg once more.
The shade she provided in her selflessness.
The rustle of my hand against her leaves.
Letting parts of her former self go to grow anew.
My head nestled soft against skin.
I watered her every chance that I could,
Watching the same water sprinkle down on me like rain.
I rested my head against her lower leg for a moment longer.
Learning to be still in the moments that pass like clouds

Most people avoid her because of her heart.
One minute she is caring, the next she is overbearing.
The next she pours her heart the next she takes it all back and remains silent.
Too many mood swings, too many off brand medicines.
This was the reason that most people would avoid her.
Catching an aliment of her own,
The amount of hurt that she keep to herself without knowing how to release.
Finding various labels to print on her forehead.
Printing sticker on-top of sticker.
Marking her down for quick sale.
Some stickers faded. Others stuck from a different sales reel.
Manifests long forgot about.
Pushed back farther and further back on the shelf.
Negligence from those whom always marked that she was there without actually pulling her forward.
To ensure that she was alright, to knock the dust from her bottle.
To encourage her to move her to the front of the shelf.
She preferred to be alone for this same reason.
Most notably hid in the dark far from the edge of the shelf.
Out of sight out of mind, Content in her own little word.
Where no-one could poke or pry, to make her feel uncomfortable about being herself.
Her lid air tight when in reality all she wanted was to give herself.
Finding a fear of searching hands whom picked over and put others before her.
She'd sit at the back of the shelf where she was perfectly content until the day she could give all of herself.
Not realizing that she pushed those away that truly cared about her in the process.
The only prescription that could heal the sick and remove the ache of weary bones.
A weary heart, more than a handful of reckless thoughts.
She was a beautiful soul in a pharmacy full of sick physicians

Building a relationship takes time.
A slow becoming of each other's identity.
A steady student in a firm desk where attendance is vital and homework isn't necessarily done with pen and paper.
To willingly give until nothing is left, to get on each other's nerves and have the courage to look each other in the eye and admit that your wrong, to say I love you deeper. Finding compromise in the smaller things.
Discovering new meaning rather than dismissing yourself every chance granted.
The building blocks to a firm foundation.
To create a support system that relies solely on devotion.
The care of another through sickness and in health.
To humble yourself in another, to find wisdom in sharing yourself.
Falling inside and out of problems without knowing the combination to every lock.
Each locker holding something different.
The impact found in arms reach of each other.
Where communication is vocalized in a different tone.
Every moment is precious, allowing yourself to be yourself with another.
A student whose back pack otherwise empty, now filled with knowledge.
Finally finding to solve for X when different variables are thrown in parenthesis.
The Y no longer important, finding a deeper meaning.
The things otherwise they never teach you at school.
Finding a love that never takes constant glances at the clock

You are one of natures most beautiful flowers.
Still growing bit by bit, watered from the roots to blossom into one of the most beautiful smiles.
Spread to receive each and every blessing that comes your way.
Embrace every inch of sun that lights the way.
Let today be one of the most beautiful days that you've had in a while.
Don't be confined by the ceramic ***.
Spread your petals in every direction that you can

To hold and acknowledge the representation of all things pure.
The gift of a black woman.
In picture perfect representation.
To hold the world in the palm of her hand. Your hand.
To birth all things beautiful.
You are the beholders of the universe.
With the patience and the endurance to witness the woes of stress.
To keep it all in stride.
You yourself are a living testament.
From the womb of resilience comes man.
With a duty to provide
To worship and protect the gift of our Queens.
A crown of wool radiating warmth.
The worry of pacing feet, cooled by the lapel of warm embrace.
From her mouth comes the food that nourishes the soul.
Around her tongue swirls knowledge of the universe.
The way her eyes connect with the stars.
Interwoven clouds that form the cuff of her crown, your crown.
With hair spread beneath her neck.
Flawless skin made of silk and honey.
With ripples of brown sugar, the moon, stars and cocoa.
Beneath her lashes lies the imagery of what she dreams most.
Her hands like the *** that brews the stew that warms the soul.
So much strength can be found. The way she holds her wrists steady.
To tame the cosmos that align against the beads of her bracelet.
Her talent , her embrace.
The way she gives herself as the wind.
Looming a sigh of relief.
Through you all life is formed.
Without her, Without you,
We'd all surely die.
Not knowing which way to go, baptized again by the palm of your hand.
This is a simple reminder to remind you that nothing could surpass you.
Beautiful black woman

Believe that around every corner lies a blessing in wait.
Believe that with each and every waking second that there is something to be uncovered.
Believe in your dreams, whether your wide awake or lying there in deep sleep.
Trust that there is nothing that can hold you back.
No matter what spirit, what circumstance that arises.
Your spirit vibrates at a high frequency. With the know how and ability to overcome adversity.
Though patience is labeled a virtue and the label reads as is.
It's one of the greatest gifts that goes misunderstood along with time.
If read long enough perception changes. 
The things that we may have overlooked, or come to us at a random moment that brings clarity to things otherwise we take for granted.
Sometimes it takes going on a long walk or just taking a moment to yourself.
Believe that the answer to everything you seek lies deep inside of you.
For peace of mind is Divine, and sometimes hard to obtain.
The things that constantly add up, watching our hands overfill without knowing what to do with the pieces thats already been given to us.
Whether it's a job, the people we face on a day to day basis or life in general.
It is at these very moments that we feel our way through, rather than rely on thought alone.
The world is built on a catalog of ideas.
Why not reach deeper into yourself and expound upon your very on catalog,
As this life thing only comes around once.
People will be people, things will always remain things,
But memories.
Memories always stand the test of time.
If something doesn't feel right, search your spirit.
There you'll find an abundance of knowledge in a deep well.
Always believe in yourself, always find that light that pushes you that extra mile.
Always believe that through any circumstance.
You have the power to change and manifest to life what ever you dream

I slept to wake with open ears.
Let alone, following a certain feeling that led me to believe that I was missing,
To walk a path that led to what I figured I'd treasure most.
A slow walk to me, to you.
Missing the hint that given enough time, all things change.
Learning to open the bright red door without looking back to whom I once was.
Continuing to walk forward with the hint I was missing something.
I convinced myself that I too was a reflection.
That not all footprints are forgotten.
The threshold of a long lasting impression.
Positioned under a wooden frame.
Bulging hinge.
The twist of a ****.
I sort of imagined that it would always be like this.
That self realization where I'd no longer feel I'd fit.
The hinge of an closed door,
That feeling that something or someone is missing.
The perception that time is always on your side.
The sting of a slammed door, sleeping only to wake with a sudden rise.
Left behind in that odd space found between each second.
Pacing back and forth.
Realizing
The amount of time it takes to unlock physical freedom.
When actuality.
I was the door that stood between myself and what I desired most.
A slow walk to me, to you.
With a helping hand, not all impressions are forgotten.
The blank creaking expression of doors and the ones we love

She was a small town, swollen with life.
A miniature seed spread wide in the palm of her hand.
There is no place I'd rather be than here.
Her face motioning a smile. Flat eyebrows.
She opened her hand sharing a piece of her town with me.
This small town rooted in the palm of her hand.
A commotion coming loud from the center of her palm.
Mid-traffic jams in steady motion.
She promised that it wouldn't last long, this commotion.
That everyone travels at one time or another.
That she stumbled across this place and never left.
Leaving it just the way it was.
Allowing the tourist to take as many pictures as they'd like.
This small town covered with music and lights.
She motioned the band to play something mellow.
This small town of hers, welcoming me to sit closer and listen.
Motioning them to play something a bit slower.
Long tones of rhythm and blues.
This was how she was.
The lights dimming a bit lower in her eye.
I saw people gather at tables, taking their seat to watch the band.
The pupils of her eyes wide and full.
Comfortable in their skin.
This was her perception.
Of course I on the outside still I heard the sound.
Coming to a complete stop, I grasped her hand tighter.
Holding on to every moment fearing that it would end.
The instruments, the vocals of long tones played by steady fingers, paused lips.
We wandered in The parking lot of open hands.
Hearing the music, walking somewhere where it wasn't so crowded.
We witnessed a wedding. The coming of grins coming together closed mouth.
Actions spoke louder in the reassurance of promise.
She wouldn't have it any other way. 
Promising the town in a night of closed hands.
She too stood on the outside.
Waiting on the bridge to lower, crossing over to my side of town

Happiness consists of effort.
It doesn't have to be perfect to be a token of appreciation.
Steadily available to be itself.
No matter how weird or silly things can get.
During these times we are tested with the vanity of our self.
Finding it much easier to walk away from a simple misconception.
It is important not to get caught up in the reflection we see.
For then we become unappreciative of the blessings around us.
Not recognizing ourself in the same image we perceive as happiness.
With a single view that things are only as bad as we allow.
Not realizing the depth of which when and how we fall.
Confusing the physical with a mental permission that effort alone is not enough.
In a combined effort of feeling whole.
The perception of how we see the ones we love becomes their world as well as our world entirely
And their expression alone is priceless

Within you is a great harvest.
One filled with wheat grain and honey.
Within you there is no pain or sickness.
This is where the greatest gift of all can be found. Planted, along with root free of toxin.
Protect yourself from those whom take just to take.
Be wise in the time of famine.
For every hand that reaches hastily isn't in true need.
They seek to abuse and leave you robbed of everything you hold dear.
Leaving behind disease, infection.
This harvest of great proportion.
Selfishly taking to leave you with nothing but emptiness.
Alone in a stretch of clear field.
Your grain and wheat scattered, littered to dry in spilled honey.
In enough time wounds heal.
In time this bountiful harvest will grow back.
But never will the land rid of the memory of everything once pure and wholesome.
Be weary of those whom seek only to trespass.
They too come with pretentious smile and promise to never leave

In a world where a hold is placed on perspective, and accomplishment is marked by material things.
Never lose your inner child.
In a world where everyone grows up and forgets the things that make them happiest, never lose your inner child.
In a world where momentarily replaces promise and devotion.
Don't forget that you hold the crayons of your soul.
You can color inside or outside the lines.
In a world where everything that truly makes you smile is frowned upon.
Don't ever lose yourself.
Just be you

Through perfect imperfections
Are we able to find evolution.
The flaws we face on a everyday basis
Seen through our own eyes as love.
A ballast on which we see each other.
Without fear, without hesitation.
I see you, not just what you display
But the eternal way that you see yourself.
Finding my reflection through yours.
Ingesting you with each and every stare.
Born again in perspective.
Yours and yours alone.
Open hearted in an open end expression through perfect imperfection.
Only then can both of our worlds change.
Only then can we truly find ourselves.
The reflection of each others eyes

And when she began to speak
I opened her mouth just wide enough to look inside.
Stretching her mouth as wide as I could get it without causing pain.
I looked around directing her head in the light.
Highlighting everything I couldn't see.
And when I let go she asked what all of that was for.
With rose eyebrows I replied the person I met a couple of years ago

It never seems the right time.
Watching night pursue the day.
That one light spread across a blanket.
That one rebellious soul that sees all but never says a word.
You shy away, but still I chase.
Wandering about until it gets dark enough to truly see you.
There I wait, knowing only persistence

I am not sure if you enjoy stew or not. But it's one of my favorite things.
You take some of your favorite meat and bring it to a simmer, along with a couple vegetables and a couple seasonings.
Chopped up nice in a good chicken or beef broth. coming together to make something new. Made thick with a little water, a little flour.
Especially on cold days. You can't go wrong with A beef or vegetable stew. Though there is no wrong or right time to eat a good stew.
There really isn't a recipe you can follow unless there is one you really just want to try. I mean it's a stew come on and live a little. That's why it's one of my favorite foods. The amount of creativity and what you can add to it.
Today I'd like you to try one.
I want you to take some of your one of a kindness and a couple of smiles. Season them with a little of the way you inspire those around you. A couple of your laughs and smiles and throw it in this crockpot that we call life. And
If you feel like sharing I'll bring a spoon and eat from the bowl of your hands

Of all things sentimental.
She came through the door wearing a suit of armor.
The door closed behind her with a rattle and tick of swaying arms.
With rust around her eyes she longed to be melted down.
A drop left in her can of oil.
The metal on her chest plate dull, full of dents.
She explained that her heart stopped working.
That the gears and springs just won't turn.
With a screwdriver jammed in the middle and a bolt or two missing.
I heard the man behind the counter say that he could repair it but she too insisted in a louder voice.
Its not worth the trouble, that she'd rather be melted down.
Too much time has passed, she wants to finally feel the warmth of something genuine.
I watched her as she walked into the welder's shop.
Some people laughed. Others wore a look of wrinkled eyebrows.
Revealing their defect. Noses turnt sharp in the air.
Beauty comes in all shapes and form.
A beautiful shape molded into tin to protect how precious she was.
Dings and dents from the rocks they'd throw.
The world is a cruel place.
Her operator forgetting her name, A reflection of alzheimer's not done intentionally.
The damage of watching everything around you slowly change.
The insecurities of home no longer being home.
She pierced a hole over her heart with a screwdriver.
Jamming the gears. Causing nuts bolts and springs to bounce everywhere in a buildup of steam.
Rust composites in the duct of her eyes.
I watched her walk through the door.
Making brief eye contact before walking through the door myself.
When I walked in there was no sign of her.
Just the man behind the counter setting out a new watch stained in rust

I was a shirt filed with straw and rags.
Pants that hang loose. Jeans cuffed pinned uncomfortably.
Nothing to think of; a hat filled with straw.
The inability to walk. Pinned to a board.
Hickory oak.
Chest disproportionate to a small waist.
Sleeves flung in the wind.
Left standing still; a face motionless.
Pinned to hickory oak.
A shadow left in an empty field, the boundaries of a checkerboard shirt.
The insecurity of straw hands.
Pickett fences to the feet of crows,
Still she'd visit often.
Distance cut short by dark heavy wings.
She'd caw in my silence,
Not knowing the ability to smile I stood against purpose.
She refused to run, poking fun at my hat.
The clothes that hung loosely in the wind, scurf tied tightly around my neck.
Feeling her ***** the strings of my chest.
Strands of straw filled by her need to find a home.
Was there anything there at all before that moment.
Becoming shelter to the way she pried.

Although tomorrow isn't promised.
Today was once tomorrow;
Becoming yesterday.
A depth often taken for granted.
Consider waking up one of the most beautiful of arrangements.
Perfectly gift wrapped and opened each time we blink.
Eyes coming to full bloom in the promise to make today better than it was yesterday.
Every breath a fragrance of its own as we journey through the garden of life as elegance is elegance,
Sometimes we ***** ourselves in anticipation. The constitution of thorns protecting something pure.
Perfectly unraveled as the day grows on.
For we all toil for the fruit of harvest, sometimes forgetting how precious the fruit really is

I took a deep breath
And reached into the bag of my heart.
Before I exhaled.
I took a step in thought.
This gift I have for you, it's not like I have a receipt for it.
Hoping that you'll like the one size fits all kind of moment.
A gift straight from the heart in the promise of watching your face melt in anticipation.
A moment carefully thought out.
A moment I watched everything I thought would never find me.
Stare back at me and breathe life back into me.
Before I exhaled.
I retraced the step I took in mind and decided to give you the whole bag
Hoping you'd understand how much thought I put into giving you my heart
Without hesitation or pause, mindful that no matter what happens.
My heart will always be safe in your grasp

So I wrote to myself.
It's not that I didn't have anyone else to write or vice versa.
What conveys is a generosity of deep truth found with over 1,000 jokes printed on the cover.
Truth be told it's actually more than that.
I am not exactly what you would call a handsome man, but you'd be surprised how much you cross someones mind when they are in need.
So I wrote to myself.
An embodiment that grew legs of it's own.
Kind of like missing out on something that's been in front of you the whole time.
The irony of free will.
A change of scenery, a fresh coat of paint.
It's like nothing ever happened.
I guess that's the inside joke of another day

She was like music filling the space around.
No matter the song she remained present.
Running around my head in a constant loop.
Going wherever she liked, a random mix of emotion.
Sometimes she was happy, other times she preferred to be alone.
Closing my ears to the outside world. 
A shoulder to lean on. Her back leaned against the door.
Plugging my ears with her thought.
She'd repeat the thoughts she'd leave behind just to see if I was paying attention.
She'd often tell me about the one she loved, the things she'd do to get him back.
Sometimes she'd speak soft, other times as loud as the volume would allow.
Filling my ears so she'd be the only voice I'd hear.
A song that longed to be perfect in every way.
A repeated chorus that fits any genre.
Her voice was like music, a beautiful song drowning out everything around

Her body was a city.
Filled with folk who spoke with their hands.
Nothing was ugly. The way that they vocalized.
She lived in the street, watching every little thing come alive.
Her body was a city where most times we sat in the car.
With no idea where we were going.
Most of the time just sitting there with the music playing.
I loved going places with her, most times just sitting still.
There wasn't just one landmark that stood out. Often time loosing sense of direction.
*** heard through the ears of a leaky car and rattling tailpipe.
Her body had a culture of it's own.
Moet' shaped frame, cigar paper still wove tight. Still in the package. 
Rich in the sound that came alive soon as her eyes closed. The same color of her car.
Each little thing contributed to the support of how she dreamed with her eyes open.
The folk whom spoke with their hands. lost in a multitude of conversation.
Everything came  to life with each passing glance.
A few folks walking pass, the corner store still lit.

Sitting in a still car, promoting live art.
The little orange wrench popping up on the dashboard motioning perspective.
Often a soloist, she'd let me visit by the hum of buzzing lights.

Wooden street poles, medium sized plastic aluminum and glass.
We sat under the street light in a mid sized sedan without need for seat belts.
Rich in the sound that came alive soon as her eyes closed.
I myself became a resident.
Following the songs she'd play. 
I'd listen intently often forgetting everything she just said.

The contact of screen to phone. The back drop of  lights ringing in silence.

Volume cut low, Most of the time just sitting there with the music playing.
Everything just seemed to disappear in the percussion her body would make.

The swift motion her hips would make,
The songs she'd mouth to herself.
I wasn't completely hopeless.
Just in love with the blues