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

In her heart just beneath her skin lays a tin pitcher.
The spout along with it's sides covered with frost from the coldest of water.
Parched lips long for a drink.
But without cup or glass.

I implore that I have swallowed fear of the utmost; Diving in head first.

A slow sip that eases the insecurity of rejection.

Another sip that interjects that you could be everything that I need.

One more to ensure that  I would gladly drown to be loved by you

She wore a necklace of thorn
Protecting the petals of her face; soft folds of petal fluttering in the wind.
In a garden filled with pesticide she sought something pure.
Away from insecticide; A poisonous thought left to linger alone.
She'd often flirt with spurts of wind.

Seeking release from root to stem.
Although covered in thorns I kissed her without fear of being pricked.
Wrapping my hands around her body. Caressing the fold of her face.
Never knowing the touch of hands she nestled her thorns deep.

My hands leaked with affection, providing a warmth that stimulated root.
Far away from pesticide. Other insecticides that would ruin her beauty.
She nestled herself in my hand, creating a garden of her own

When asked, I replied I have a secret if your dying to know.
With enough anticipation I tore nail from wood.
A secret not so much, housed comfortably in a place that no one goes.
Some of the wood dry-rotted, nails now rust.
It still took some prying.
Uncovering a unhinged door in perfect dark.
Nails and wood covering the ground.
When asked what was in there I replied my heart.
Her eyes immediately searched the dark.
Still nothing could be found.
When asked again, I told her that if she looked in the mirror she'd see a clear reflection of it

We were anointed, becoming one with stained glass.
We delivered ourself.
Resonating bible verses with solid ground.
An infinite shiver in the form of chill bumps across slender arms.
We prayed away anything that wasn't of you.

The Genesis of new beginnings
The arch of open books laid across our laps, we prayed.
We prayed hard. Enclosed were the whispers of closed eyes.
Remaining humble through hard times.
The times we remembered you were there, 
I loved her before I knew you, most highest of the high

discovering that heaven wasn't as far as it seemed.
An ethereal experience. The mysterious way that you work.
We prayed hard, forgetting the things that took place around us.
Deciphering verse after verse.
The Exodus of whom we were resolved in complete Revelation.
Finding jewels in the form of scripture.
We placed them around our necks, around our finger. The seal of a promise.

Finding that vanity too has it's price, through the good. Through the bad.
We found calm in the place of a great storm.
Hands clasped together in faith. 
We found peace in the alter of tightly pressed hands.
The precious lines of fingers and palms fitting the groove of one another.
Filling the gaps of deep woven grooves.

Flourishing the branch of arms, entwining. Discovering the fruit of silence.
With hands like soil our legs like roots.
No matter the wind

Heaven only knows

You are a Goddess, held upright
With hands that warm the soul and a voice that soothes.
Like water you take any form. Spreading in a dream that falls like drops of reign.
You are a Goddess, in the form of milk and honey.
Is it any wonder why bees love you as much as they do.
Something so rare, so precious.
Almost extinct.  

Spreading in a dream that falls like drops of reign.
Brown sugar, a hint of spice.
A natural remedy that heals the ache of those in need.
Goddess do you truly know how precious, how rare you truly are.

Goddess I look to the moon every night.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of your eyes.
The tranquil gift that looms its gift of comfort.
Your voice
soothing, soft.
The wind that caresses the rounds of my face.

With natural curls of your wavy hair
The stars couldn't compare
Nor the current of the strongest ocean.
Try as they might, they could never compare.
How they must envy the depth of your crown.

Goddess do you truly know how precious you are,
The cure to every aliment, every ache.
Every pain

Do not ever let anyone tell you otherwise.
Do not ever let anyone steal your joy.
For you are a Goddess held upright in the light of the Sun

Shes the song thats constantly written
then revised in my head.
Only then is she able to come alive and be herself.
Accented in beautiful curve.
Revised in the moments shared in thought.
The slightest touch ; her voice truly heard.
Perfectly arranged in broken prose to unseen eyes.
Beautifully composed; the way that she gives.
Finding purpose.
Constantly singing in my head

Hearts are not something to be taken lightly.
According to life's essential need.
Anything else would be considered making noise.
Hearts are like mid sized drums. fragile in the way that they beat.
Lingering throbs, echoing intensely.
Seldomly, A snare dropped off key, played softly.
Filling the space of the smallest thought.
Realizing that mistakes can and will occur.
Something not to be taken lightly.
The fragile pop of the smallest thread.
Over thought in motion.
Continuing to move about.
Balanced by the placement of steady hands.
Regaining composure.
A new note soulfully played in cadence with another.
Realizing that there is no such thing as control when it comes to matters of the heart.
A constant rhythm that goes misunderstood until it meets a set of ears to willingly listen.
A Definitive purpose. Finding bliss in filling the gaps of another note.
Without embarrassment, without shame to be themselves.
Tirelessly in unison.
The throb of steady hearts.
This was life being lived to the fullest.
This was the first time I truly heard music at it's finest.
It was never the steady pace of the drum,
But everything that took place around the pop.
Only to amplify as I grew older

The pilot closed the door.
Taking a brief moment to look around.
Patting himself down opening the door then closing it back hesitantly.
He walked past the vacant seats, inviting himself to the copilot seat in the cockpit.
He leaned his head back, observing the silence that surrounded.
Staring off into the clouds.
His back seeped into comfort. Sliding down a bit further.
His knees touching the dashboard to the controls.
He searched the sky. The chair becoming a more enticing place to catch a Z or two.
The plane landed about half an hour ago.
Still he sat. Constantly opening then closing the door.
Feeling the breeze of air pass across his face.
Stretching his legs from being cramped in a tight compartment for so long.
Watching the other planes come and go.
The constant flicker of port side reflecting off his face.
How easy it seems to go home.
Continuing to nod off into a deep sleep.
Listening to the other planes sail off into the distance.
The luxury of dreams

I dwelt in thought.
Reminiscing on the way that she made me feel.
Gradually I moved into her.
Packing light, reassuring that I'd bring the biggest piece of me.
She welcomed me with open arms. Extending a hand, she made room just below her heart.
I left my bag a few inches from her feet. Not wanting to overload her with excess.
She insisted, grabbing my bag with ease.
This was better than any trip I'd ever taken.
Falling in love at first sight. Staring out of the window in my room.
I kissed her once to ensure that what I felt wasn't a dream.
I kissed her again for ever doubting.
My whole inside blushed red.
I hesitated often, not wanting to become a burden in a place that felt like home.
In regards to table manner, we took our plates from one room to the next.
Emptying ourselves on empty plates.
The flutter of racing hearts, the comfort of vibrant linen.
Warm colors layered across one another.
Totally aware that I could be myself. Sleep was nowhere to be found.
Spending the rest of our time up, she gave me a key to ensure that I'd always have a place in her heart.
I gave it back, reassuring that I'd never leave

Some colors outlast others, a variety of crayons sold in large quantity.
Pressed hard, printed on loose leaf paper.
These precious memories.
Molded down, broken. Chipped off in delicious assortment.
Sold by individual wrapper, journeying in delight, mixed with one another.
The beginning of the day finding it's way into night.
A constant surprise, lending a hand to someone else. A fruit shared in generosity.
Sliced whole, seen in vivid color. Modest in the way they meet.
Inquiring God's imagination, finding discipline. Joining each other in unity.
What derives is something greater, highlighting each others attribute.
Conducting themselves in a sense of yoga, traveling in one another's path.
Granting comfort, selfless in how they give. Guiding themselves in meditation.
Casting fear into the wind. A bland expectation. Sitting there without a thing to do.
Post it notes cut into the shape of bananas, a spark of imagination in the hands of a child. Thought to make the work space a bit more lively.
Pictures of friends, family, girlfriends, wives.
There are plenty of ways to create any one color, set in preference to highlight the things that make us smile most.
The fruit of life's harvest.
Presented as one specific color we take for granted.
The variation it takes to make the hue we love the most.
Crayons losing the sharpness of their head, painting the portrait of each moment that passes.
Framed behind glass

In deep honesty,
I know that you keep to yourself.
That no one really knows you except the few you deem worthy.
How I envy their knowledge of you.
Those hidden idiosyncrasies that reveal the secrets to how you smile so big.
I wait another day, seeing your face in reflection.
Reaching out to touch you. Risking the chance that you'll disappear before my hand touches your shoulder.
How I envy their knowledge of you.
Believing the impossible.
A steady faucet that spews with the press of a lever.
I decided to stand still, realizing that I was standing on the wrong side of the sink.
Left dry, hearing only the sound of your laughter.
How I envy their knowledge, knowing exactly where to stand when you rain affection.
The taste of ****** food, left stained. Not much room to move.
Collected in an empty sink.
The clatter of spoons, forks, butter knives, and plates without so much as a cup.
I must admit. I envy their knowledge of you as I am left here stale, without cause.
Seeking you to cleanse me in purpose

I hope that your the one.
Accompanying tomorrow into today.
The time shared from one conversation to the next.
Painting vivid pictures in each other's eyes.
The moments where time stands still, sitting in each other's embrace.
Rushing to get to the phone, hoping that you'd pick up soon as it rings.
Relaying different thoughts, new things to think about.
How much I've missed you, when could we meet again. Do we require permission to do the things we keep to ourselves.
The smiles that reveal how close we keep each other in thought.
The way you look wearing my favorite color.
The start of our imagination getting the best of us.
Spending time with you, becoming my favorite habit.
The smell of my cologne staining your shirt.
The times when all you need is a look. A slight procrastination that leads into different topic of conversation.
The comfort of voices revealed in low tones.
The perfect day dream, your head laid on a pillow.
A random date somewhere out of the ordinary. Drive in movie. Arms stetched out, pretending  to fly like we're kids again.
Big head pretty girl pictured perfectly in my dreams, a pack of starburst filled with pink wrapping.
Real life situations seen as practical. Late night conversations, the need to vent.
Not a thing to do but listen to you speak your mind.
The build up of stress from work, fake friends, the perfect invitation to relate to your favorite vice.
Not everything has to be about ***. I want you for you.
Imagining you walk from one room to the next.
The spark of intellectual stimulation, aspiration, the reasons I miss you as much as I do.
The fragrant aroma of your skin lingering, an incense of thought wrapping around the senses.
Waking up finding myself still in a dream.
A kiss to wake up to. Ensuring the future.
The sun peeping through closed blinds, the wiggling of toes.
The smell of decaf. Coffee in the morning.
Fitting perfectly inside the cup of my hands, the swirl of cream, a couple tablespoons of sugar, swirling about in perfect motion.
This is how I picture us together.
All in perplexed but interesting truth.
The simplicity of it all

At the table sat a prawn, a fish, a glass of water, and a watch.
All trying to figure out who had the best hand.
Two out of three games already played.
Tension drawn on all of their faces.
The fish twitches at the river, caught in thought eying the glass of water.
The prawn in constant panic. Eying the fish.
Stuck in the same predicament as the fish. Winning a much larger *** the last hand played.
The fish much larger than he. The prawn folded his hand.
The glass of water over-thinking the endless possibilities of both the prawn and the fish.
Sweat dripping down the side.
The watch on the other hand, had the best poker face of them all.
As time reveals everyones true intentions.
Revealing a slew of faces

She brought comfort,
The few minutes granted by the press of the snooze button.
The shutter of eye lids reaching the corner of rem.
Choosing instead to sleep rather than face the reality of being away from her.
The hesitation of opening eyes, a morbid reality.
Waking up, coming to the realization that the only perk life has is when your truly unconscious.
Lost in a soft dream. Inhabiting a space somewhere in time that feels like eternity.
An ethereal experience. Filling my lungs in a universe filled with her.
A place containing a medium that dilates pupils behind closed eyes.
Fearing that any moment might be the last.
A unexplainable language, depicted as a snore. The circulation of bliss.
Smiling in a state of sleep.
Interrupted by the sound of an alarm, signifying that our time will be cut short.
Annoyed by the sound of reality blaring it's alarm.
Half opened eyes feeling around to silence the light of a phone.
Modernized alarm. Made convent.
Lost in the sheets.
All made possible by the 10 minute break of the snooze button.
Picking back up were we left off, for 10 long minutes that seem like a lifetime.
All thanks to the press of a snooze button

In pure essence.
Her heart was an ocean and I,
A whale lost in depth.
Not the prettiest of fish, yet I searched for affection.
Living and breathing, I know not what I sought.
Not understanding that what I sought and her heart were one in the same.
Continuing to live and breath in her essence.
She housed me in affection.
Feeding me from the cusp of her heart.
Drowning me in how strong the current of her heart flowed.
Finding knowledge that swam under the tutelage of schools.
I grew to love her in various length.
Splashing down in the depth of love.
She kept me in the darkest part of her heart.
Forever buried in memory. Discovering the light that peeped through despite
how fast the current flowed.
She calls every so often to see if I've found what I so adamantly sought.
Right in front of me the whole time

In monumental testament.
I grabbed a bottle and began to fill it with notes.
In times where reassurance was needed most I replaced the contains of the bottle with thoughts.
Unable to speak in a time where actions proved to speak louder.
Hesitant eyes that waited for reply. Drawing a blank where silence seemed ideal.
On one of the notes I drew a ship on the front and back of it. Sliding it in the middle of the bottle.
Shaking the bottle up and down, I watched it shift back and forth in wave after wave of loose strips of paper.
Rough torn edges, uneven chunks of paper.
Considering myself human for the most part. Taking a minute to walk across the shore.
Watching a ship sail it's maiden voyage.
Blue lines, the smell of paper.
The sound of waves crashing against the sides of the ship.
Sitting down along the side of the shore. Watching a ship caught in a storm of paper.
Reassuringly gathering my thoughts.
The ship drawn perfectly, setting sail across the depth of the bottle.
Leaned upright, splashing down on one note or another.
Following my first mind I sat the bottle on a stack of books.
I still wasn't ready to talk

I find humor laughing at how far we've come.
The differences seen out right between you and I.
Creating the shortcut separating us both.
Risking more distance. Taking that one proverbial step.
I laugh because of absolute generosity.
Placing different pieces of myself in you.
An extreme amount of disposition, watching our shadow take the step of paused feet.
Considering the first step, moving closer to you.
Doing the utmost in sincerity. Discovering that through true expression
you are me and I am you.
The parts of ourself that we keep hidden.
Still troubled.
Finding new ways to be completely honest.
Why not laugh, sharing whats felt on the inside.
Choosing instead the shortcut that sits right in front of us.
Short conversation that deny us both of how we truly feel.
A motivation found in the utmost of sincerity.
No longer pretending. Putting on a front that we see each other for who we truly are.
We see it clear as day but it's funny because we choose to ignore it.
Choosing instead to see what we choose.
Choosing instead to dwell in the past, finding reason to take a step back.
Letting our shadow dissipate.
Taking hold of how we truly feel.
Putting that selfish part of ourselves first.
A lack of communication no longer sincere in motion.
Not realizing that we're back to where we started

I hunger for your hands
Substituting what happens between them in living memory.
The intimacy of being that close.
Simplifying fragility.
It's natural that they'd become curious. Roaming about until they themselves feel comfortable.
That feeling in the center of your chest that makes you feel that you can do anything.
In A place of this size.
I long to be lost in the grasp of somewhere comfortable.
To wake up and see you exposed in a calm hush
Falling back asleep in complete comfort