Above all monsters that linger in the dark.
Love is one that can take many shapes and forms.
A tug of the bed spread or the seal of closet doors.
No matter how tight they are pressed.
Still it finds a way to seep through.
Waiting to take you by the arm the very moment your eyes start to close.
Reminding you of that one thought you keep suppressed of all things.
Keeping you awake for just a moment longer.
Eyes that long for a deep sleep.
Peering over a sea of fabric.
The ***** of an arrow digging into an unexpected feeling.
Climbing from beneath the bed or the crack of the closet.

Reminding you of the thing you somewhat regret. With the one person you can't seem to stop thinking about.
That cupid, appearing with a sly grin.
Dressed as the boogie man, blending into shadows, dark red loafers.
Just as your moseying off to sleep.
There he stands, squaring his shoulders.
Remembering all the late night trips you took to the fridge.
Who would have took cupid as a gymnast. Hiding here or there.
Or a health nut that despises anything outside of strawberry hearts

Love, such an abstract thing.
Spread across a canvas.
Made seen by the help of brush bristles.
A vivid depiction of clear bottles made a mess.
I hope your not afraid of painting with ***** hands.
The feel of paint staining clean hands.
Here.
No one is innocent.
Not even the canvas which is neither seen nor heard

I opened her closed fingers.
Filling them with the open space of gaps between mine.
These things words could not say.
Still she remained my journal.
Always.
Even if we didn't know what to say.

I find her between the dimples of happy couples
and the sparkling cider of fluid hands: Coming together at 
the stem

I disciplined myself in her.
Humbling myself in her mold.
First my body then my soul.
Painting myself with her skin.
She scribbled her name across me.
Using her finger as a pencil, gently scribbling.
I don't want to sound crazy. But I thought she was suppose to be
the object of my affection not the other way around.
I love how she does that

When I look at her.
I don't see color.
Not the tone of her skin, nor the clothes she wore.
She was a woman. Held upright within her own atmosphere.
She wasn't to be made of material possession.
With one look you'd know why she was regarded as every artist's muse.
But if you'd ever speak to her without regard to which aerosol
imitated her best.
She'd reply she just longed to be

Each morning at work it starts.
That unquiet chatter that rattles the calmest of patience.
That one moment of clarity now gone.
The gathered thoughts gone astray.
Scattered about in every direction.
This loud obnoxious sound.
Echoing about , absorbing silence in a matter of minutes.
That one voice that for some reason or another.
Labeled as a menace, a void of emptiness that causes commotion just because.
A simple why only provokes this voice to carry on instead of grasping the hint that if you don't have anything to say, then it's best to keep quiet.
The thought of filling out a transfer just to get away grows more enticing day by day.
To gain a moments peace from the ramble of 8 hours a day.
The constant following and nagging.
The belly aching of a pebble, thrown front side up, falling, crashing into a pool of water.
Creating a constant ripple that spreads in every direction.
This was how he sent my thoughts in disarray each and every morning.
So much so, I began to fantasizing about duct tape

I wandered into you by mistake.
But for what it's worth.
The only thing legislation could do for me: Is make you a real city, state.
Only then could you truly see what I see everytime I look at you.
A unconditional love each block I walk.
I belong to you: each part of you, now apart of me.
Lost in the ever blinding light rising over the horizon.
Tall buildings sculpted with the light of your eyes.
Overcoming the dark.
Awaiting the coming of your smile.
Little by little as dawn inches closer

There sat a biscuit.
Watching everyone pass by as it sat behind the glass.
Baked fresh, it wondered whose life it would come into.
Spreading much delight.
A divine purpose.
Sat on a plate covered with other food.
Covered in syrup.
Meeting where reason becomes purpose.
If it had legs, it would walk outside and advertise it's warm goodness.
Covered in gravy, perhaps cheese.
The world we live in.
Fast food

She was like a banana.
The best part of her was on the inside.
The amount of insulin I'd need trying to devour her whole.
God knows how much I love the thought of that.
The effect she'd have on me.
Each time I'd see her I'd unravel her piece by piece until all of her shown like never before.
The only problem was I was allergic to bananas.
Although her smell was intoxicating.
One taste of her and my throat would instantly swell.
Though I wouldn't prefer anything artificial.
I wanted the real thing.
When I revealed all of this to her she just laughed.
She laughed her *** off as a matter of fact.
Rocking back and forth.
Her little brown shoes clicking together.
Her yellow skin now a bit red.
Her freckles now in full view.
When I asked why she laughed she said its quite alright.
Most people I've met speak so highly of themselves.
Your the first person to admit you correctly know how to open a banana.

There was something about her eyes.
Something comforting yet.
No matter how beautiful her lips could vocalize.
Nothing could compare to wandering the pupils of her eyes.
Those dark spheres that held so much in.
They'd expand then shrink
Almost as if they took a breath.
I don't know if it was anxiety,
The attempt of labeling this urge of wanting to ask so badly why they hung the way they did.
Knowing all of me but refusing to speak.
Those soft spoken eyes that looked like they could speak for hours.
I felt a tingling in my chest.
An explosion of sorts.
Scattering in every direction.
Something in me just wanted to blurt out what is it already.
Feeling this urge travel up my throat.
The brink of knowing you shouldn't but not wanting to listen to that inner voice that could jeopardize her comfort.
Wanting to know more about her,
Her lips compelled more to this connection.
The continuing of infatuation.
I slid my back against the side of her nose.
Easing my shoulder against the corner of her right eye.
I couldn't explain this comfort.
Allowing myself to be at ease with someone I barley knew.
But could totally relate.
Afraid to speak in fear of being totally misunderstood.
Things that might have taken place so far from where she stood, being in two places at one time.
I sought to understand.
Listening to a calm hush between us two.
Listening deeply for any indication, wondering if the feeling was mutual.
The conversation I longed to have with our backs now against the wall.
She'd politely stare.
Letting the sun polish her eyes a different shade.
Then out of the blue.
She turned to me and thanked me for understanding.
Knowing that not everything required an answer, not even words for that matter.
Continuing to sit beside her and share the comfort of ultimate silence.
Deep down I still wanted to blurt what was it about her eyes.
Those warm and inviting eyes.
Before I knew it I just started blabbing.
An instantaneous combustion of conversation happening out of nowhere.
My voice becoming hers. Revealing my curiosity.
How I've wandered around her eyes the moments I've sat next to her.
And before she knew it, they started talking.
Guiding me further into them

She's the thought that occurs in my mind.
The one that shows up without warning.
A gallon of gasoline, a handful of matches.
The spark that ignites there is brighter than anything
I've ever seen.
Setting fire to anything that isn't her.
I couldn't have saved myself If I tried.
Watching everything reduce to individual piles of rubble.
Shes recklessly chaotic.
Perfectly complexed in the way that she stands.
Striking the head of the match on the bottom of her heel.
There she stands watching everything burn.
Covering herself with my faults.
There she warms her heart by the fire.
Stoking the fire with old memories.
Slapping my hand each time I reach for one.
She's that one thought that asks me to hand her more matches.
Paying no never mind to if she's burned herself or not.
Dousing everything in gasoline that surrounds her.
Her reply to everything.
Revealing a devious grin, extending her hand for more matches.
Theres no doubt in my mind that she's a devil disguised in angel wings.
Roasting her halo over the fire,
Soon to press against me.
Branding me with her everlasting essence

She moved about as the sea
And I the shore she'd visit every so often.
Each grain moist with infatuation.
I wish she'd stay a bit longer.
Kissing above her eye.
A paradise unfolded between our every caress.
Filling the gaps of when I missed her most.
Splashing against the shore.
Finding endless bliss in the current of the wind.
Taking a piece of me whenever she'd leave
Until next time

Her heart was but a loaf of bread,
Rather than cut herself in pieces.
She'd give the entirety of her loaf.
Each grain saturated in nothing but generosity.
The pride of giving your all without want for return.
It was this reason that butter knives and knives alike longed for her most.
To ease themselves inside her and melt away into the tenderness that only she knew as whole.
She harvested herself, knowing only the delight of what it's like to give.
Never knowing the emptiness of greed,
Not knowing the pain she'd soon receive

I plumped down sinking back first into the middle of the cushion.
Resting my arms behind my head.
Thoughts of spending the rest of my life here crossed my mind.
Now drifting off in thought.
I watched the sun drift off into the horizon.
Peering through half closed curtains. The inside of her eyes.
I always wondered what things looked like from here.
A beautiful thing, the clouds engulfed by one another.
Patiently laying there, feet spread apart. Wider than my shoulders.
The fear of drowning never crossed my mind, Sailing so far from I originally docked myself.
The closest I've ever came to setting sail before this moment was dangling my feet from the pier.
Hanging from the edge of her eyebrows.
By far one of the best memories happening before my eyes.
I loved how this felt. Surrounded in total comfort.
Embraced by nothing except cushion.
I sunk deep. My outer face cradled by cushion.
Watching the current of clouds ripple across the sky.
Snuggling my head deeper into the cushion.
Internalizing the thought of spending the rest of my life here.
Laying on the cushion of her heart.
Viewing the world through her eyes

I hated knowing the fact that she was absent.
Missing the feel of her caress.
The arms that slipped over mine as comfortable as a jacket.

It was therapeutic in a sense.
The warmth that accompanied a simple smile spread across my face.
Knowing that she was there.
It wasn't as easy as going to the store.
Constantly trying on jackets looking for the right fit,
Paying no never mind to the tags that read different sizes.

The 2x's. 1x's. Sometimes disused as the wrong size.
No matter the store, there would never be another her.
I hated imagining the chime that would sing from under the mat when one foot hit the right spot walking into the store.
The awkward look passed from one customer to the other, the hassle of standing in line.
No, this was far from comfortable.
The ease of having what you need unexpectedly given to you, all of a sudden taken away.
The seams of her arms tailored around mine.
Snug against my back, her head as the collar laid against my neck, my chest.

What I needed was her, without her nothing felt right

She, herself was the labyrinth the minotaur protected. As through her heart lead a passage to heaven

I stumbled upon a skeleton,
Upon finding it. I picked it up and took it back home laying it on the table.
I stared long and hard at the dried up bones, letting my eyes wander up and down.
I grabbed a few blankets, anything I could find to compensate for everything that was missing.
Going out and about the streets getting everything I could to revive the skeleton.
Watching the bottom jaw drop and turn my direction.
A broken spirit that's long forgotten the touch of a generous hand.
A sudden change, watching a pale figure fill with color.
The time taken finding piece by piece, doing my best to stitch together all the fragments I found.
Watching it lay on the table, a full skeleton.
Now filled with flesh, play doe. Anything I could find.
I filled it with every essence of my dream girl, perfectly sculpting her face until perfection.
There wasn't anything superficial or vain about this, what I was attempting was creating love at first sight.
Accepting the good as well as the tragic misfortune of stumbling upon a skeleton.

Pacing back and forth at first then deciding to pick it up.
Dark holes filling the spaces where eyes use to be.
Going out finding different bits and pieces to fit a personality other than my own.

I grew excited at the very thought.
A happening, bonding with something other than myself.
It felt natural, feeling my thoughts roll off of my tongue.
My time was no longer my own.
Watching her slowly come back to life.

Filling her with a bit of my philosophy. My experiences.
I conversed while she lay there in silence.

Her eyebrow curved, Trying to make sense of everything that's going on.

She eventually began to move, she began to speak, filling me with her past experiences

Thoughts and ideas.

The more that time went on,

The more I became of her.

She noticed the subtle change of how quiet I became.

The will to want to do anything now gone.

Her face drooped over now staring at me with those deep dark spaces I have yet to fill.

Before I could ask what was wrong she revealed a dark truth about her past.

Correcting her face in the mirror.

She told me that she watched me pace back and forth, debating whether or not to leave her there.

That due to the curse that was placed on her, no matter what happens she will forever be a monster.

Devouring those that encounter her.

I pleaded that I meant to do her no harm, to no avail.

The damage was done

In my mind we were but two halves.
Seeking nothing but the comfort of each other.
Without need for clothes we wore each other In the tightest embrace.
The simplest of things shared between us two.
No matter how much we tossed backward and forward
we remained together.
Discerned in ultimate truth, we sat still while everything else became
turbulent.
Tilting us backward and forward not once did any of us falter.
In my mind I loved her just as much as I loved myself.
Why shouldn't we be considered a whole.
Engulfing myself in her embrace as we sat.
Wrapping my arms around her jagged edges, protecting her just as she protected me.
Legs laid across my lap.
In the morning I'd kiss her forehead and welcome her further into my arms.
Grabbing her, pulling her tighter until you couldn't tell which one of us was which.

I got on my knees, hoping that you would appear
I waited until the morning, keeping my eyes closed in solemn prayer.
Hoping to see you when I opened my eyes.
I was curious when you would appear, keeping my eyes closed.
Continuing to wait, my knees became sore.
Still I knelt on my knees knowing pain.
Would your love ever take over.
Continuing to wait I opened my eyes at the crack of dawn.
Rising from my knees when I saw nothing but disappointment.

Now that I am high, I don't ever plan on coming down.
From what I am told highs don't last forever.
If this feeling ever fades I don't know what I'll do.
I couldn't begin to imagine another night of sobriety.
A night spent away from what I've come to know as normal.
Something done randomly, something that's become habit.
Given time.
I don't think I could go back to the way I once was.
Something held close. Revealing the fact that nothing is as perfect as we could imagine it.
The moments I feel myself floating with closed eyes.
Picturing myself falling in love.
Now that I am high I feel that I am free-falling.
Finally jumping from the ledge I've known for so long.
A sudden pause from anything momentary.
The everlasting effect of something I've never felt. Being high.
Most highs don't last forever from what I've been told.
Always chasing something to compensate what was once felt.
My first reaction was to jump from the ledge of the couch and hit the floor face first.
Which was what I did. Not entirely my plan but it worked.
Choosing to stay here and seek nothing outside of what I already felt.
Leaving my sobriety anywhere but here.
A kind of reserve stashed away for safe keeping.
Not in the sense of smoking or anything that could be ingested
I suppose I took a piece of your heart and hid it where only I could find it.
But only when I jump from the ledge of the couch and end up face first on the floor.
Somewhere I know you can't find it.
I guess this high could be considered love.
A funny thing, love.
Four simple letters that could create so much devastation,
or bliss.
Love a whirlwind of emotion that takes everything then tosses it up without care how it lands.
A crazy thing, being sober in the midst of love.
Four simple letters packaged and distributed as something sweet, delicious.
Most commonly referred to as munchies.
Devouring everything in sight.
A buffet of need wrapped airtight in urgency.
Next time I sit on the floor I think I'll invite you.
But only for another piece of your heart.
Verballing from the ledge of the couch.
Only to land face first on the floor once again.
Love such a crazy thing

Each morning she welcomes me into her world.
The best part about it.
I am always glad I came, watching her pat her hand on a reserved spot inviting me to sit beside her.
A motivation for tired legs,
Our eyes resting after a light jog, over by the park bench.
Slowly watching our faith in each other raise from behind the clouds.
In due time I am drenched in the way that she makes me feel.
Even when we go our separate ways she is always there

I deliberately stained my lips with the edible arrangement of her heart,
Savoring the hint of love

Each morning she grants me the unique privilege of providing a smile on her face
I know quite a bit about the simple things.
To watch her walk in and delight herself with the croissant of open lips
A splash or two of milk painting her smile.
I just might have to bring her breakfast one day
Just to return the favor

There is a sense of forever that's hidden in your eyes.
A sense that no matter how much time will pass.
A promise that no matter how random the thought.
That somehow, you will always be there.
That same funny laugh, that devious smirk that lets me know
that your about to do something silly.
No matter how much time shall pass.
It will always be there to take my mind off of what ever is going on.

And on the day she left,
Nothing needed to be said, I immediately felt her absence.
At that exact moment I felt my heart drop,
Falling miles away from where we once stood.
Watching my heart drop from my chest cracking against the floor.
The thought of no longer being able to hold her in my arms
Or being the first person she called when something went wrong.
It was at those moments when she was truly able to express how she truly felt.
It was those moments I truly knew what it was like to be needed.
Dropping everything, holding her in my arms.
On the day she left I was truly devastated.
Already seeing her smile disappear from view.
Sometimes thoughts get the better of us, but I could never understand why
in those moments.
We often say things we don't mean or act irrational when really and truly 
we just need reassurance that everything will be okay.
No overdrawn explanation, no deep reasoning.
Just a caress that says everything that needs to be said.
The power a simple hug can provide. The grasp of someone you love
to take the pain away.
And on the day that she left, I no longer saw the same her.
Walking off in the distance

Once I hated you,
Without understanding the full reason of hating you.
For unexplainable reasons you were always there.
The very same shoulder I leaned my head against when stabbed.
My hate for you began when I looked down and found that it was your hand that held the knife that sunk into my stomach.
The shallow breathing,
The pain that surged through my very being.
Collapsing to the ground crying out for help.
Of all people, of all things.
You were the very least of anyone whom I would have thought.
Hearing your footsteps dissipate in the distance.
Scattering in every direction.
From that point on you showed me the meaning of silence.
The deafening moment of crying out for help only for no one to echo back to a throbbing pain.
Without understanding the full reason, I hated you.
This troubling silence that surrounded me.

Coming to the realization that at this very moment, everything was going to end.
Watching everything I once knew, everything I loved leak out of me.

I laid there soaked in attachment.
Growing numb, looking at the knife lay beside me motionless.
I hated you, but more so myself for handing you that very same knife.
The very same knife that ended up coming back sticking me in the stomach.
Once I hated you without understanding the reason why.
How could you do such a thing.
It wasn't until my head hit the ground that I laid there.

Forced to empty myself on cold pavement.
That I never hated you, for the pain that you thought you caused only made me realize how much strength I really had.

That letting go was essential to stop the suffering.

It wasn't until you stabbed me that I came to the agreement with my former self whom laid there bleeding out
That I never would have learned to see the beauty of everything around me if you never would have stabbed me.
Leaning to breathe again, leaving my former self behind

In the midst of conversation A question rose out of the blue,
What would I do if such opportunity were to arise.
In a conversation about long term goals without hesitation or notion
Without any specifics given to her question I asked what opportunity.
She laughed slightly and repeated the question.
This time reaching inside of her chest and pulling her heart into a closer view.
She waited for reply.
I wandered around the look in her eye glancing back down at a now throbbing heart.
She said well, In a topic of long term ambition show me that I am not wrong about you.
I trust you well enough to do exactly what I know your about to do.
She stated nothing further.
With that being said I'd like to think that I made the right decision.
The openness of conversing about any and everything, the hint that actions speak louder than words.
I did what I suppose any sane man would do.
I flung myself into her chest and landed dead in the center of her heart without fear of missing.

You've crossed my mind many nights.
Sometimes I just lay there, holding you tight in mind.
Wandering your body with my hands.
Filling my fingers with the skin I've dreamt so much about.
The things you keep hidden. unraveled in empty sheets, blankets.
Your warmth becoming the only comforter that dictates whether or not I'll have sweet dreams.
What justifies the stain our breath has left on one another's.
The press of your face against my neck.
The marks left on each other in anticipation. Refusing to pull ourselves away.
Clinging tight to the ****** of being beside ourselves.
Deliberately keeping each other awake in the promise of sleeping wild moments later.
To watch your face scrunch up as it breaks your gasp. Bringing a halt to anticipation,
The comfort of bodies becoming pillows harboring us into a deep sleep. Soft, still.
My head laying on your shoulder.
As we ourselves become lost in the sheets

At the bookstore I found a guide
Inside was a simple instruction.
A funny looking diagram.
I tried everything imaginable but still couldn't figure it out.
Flipping page after page, Telling you what I've found.
The way the instruction was wrote was shoddy.
Continuing to follow the diagram.
Attempting what I read all you did was laugh, none of it worked.
It didn't hit me until I threw the paperwork that I might have been reading it
upside down.
Finding a different way to love you.
Upon further reading I followed the instruction verbatim.
If anything it pushed me further away from you,
A strange look that continued with the raise of a eyebrow.
I looked online and read the reviews, found the publisher of the book.
I wrote them stating that the guide was entertaining but still had problems
applying what I read.
I looked again at the strange stick figures wondering if figure one really was
figure one.
Reading the publishers reply,
They really should print these things better as all they did was laugh.
It wasn't until I reached the end of the book and read in fine print.
For entertainment purposes only

Her eyes widened,
Not once did I stop to notice that this was the first time
These words came from my mouth.
Through action yes but never once did I stop to pay attention that I've never said it before.
The words that caused this sudden hesitation.
I mean throughout the course of the day I've thought it.
But until I seen the look on her face it struck me.
Of all things how could I possibly forget that.
It wasn't at all a bad thing, as most silences accompany something bad,
Though silence filled the air the look on her face was in disbelief.
From that moment on I sort of questioned a lot of other things, the kind of things that lead to if I did or didn't.
I never was one to pay close attention to detail.
The subtle hints that I very well might have overlooked.
I suppose I do deserve to be hit in the back of the head
As she stopped in mid sentence, I suppose just as shocked as I was.
In the back of my mind I was really hoping that she wouldn't ball up her fist and hit me up side the head.
All things aside, I was never good at this type of thing and on a daily basis she deserves more than what I can give but she takes it all in stride.
But seriously I hope she doesn't hit me up side the head for taking this long.
She is a bit violent and on top of that she is a ******, going to get a step stool would only make her madder.
Her eyes now widened, eyebrows relived of any crinkle that stretched down to her nose.
Leaving me without a thing to say but the words again.
"I love you"

Her eyes were like a color by number.
Everywhere she stood they'd turn a different shade of brown.
Naturally they shone a different color soon as the sun would find them.
But this color was hard to describe.
Watching the sun paint them with a splash of yellow.
I'd just stand and stare. Often time it was hard to speak after seeing such a thing.
The effect it took on me, often inviting me in to have a drink.
Nestled in a chair to hear a story or two.
How they just seemed to come alive, her eyes.
Inebriated by the conversations we'd have.
She'd put a hand to her brow to block the sun from shining too bright.
I'd forget how sad they were at times, her eyes.
Taken by the stories they tell about her dreams. The excitement that filled them, Talking about the places she'd love to go.
Big and bright. Full of curiosity, her eyes.
If I could let her inside of me and give her the same box of crayons that she's given me.
I wonder if she'd color me in different colors.
Or just the same variation of different colors just as her eyes have colored me.

I waited in line,
Standing behind those in need.
Women, children.
Full carts, the other cashiers closed.
 
I stood in line,
Barely making it to the store.
Hurrying, grabbing what I sought.
Making it over to the line before it got longer.
 
I waited in line.
A deep thought, It never use to be so complicated.
Coming, grabbing what you needed.
Bypassing everything that compensates essential need.
 
I stood in line.
Barely making it to the store.
A different brand to replace something or another.
The P.A system announced the store now closed before I could buy a new heart

I was never mad that you lied about the smallest of things.
The things that hurt the most when found that they were indeed true.
If anything you taught me that sometimes faith can easily be misplaced.
Over time it became hard to look in your eyes,
A place I found myself disappearing to often.
Confusing truth for comfort,
Realizing that in a world of fabrication, The best truths are raw.
Often unclothed. A natural happening.
This is what lured me to your eyes.
Not once paying attention to what was going on around me,
Not until the last minute.
The things taken for granted.
The unease hesitation of hands. A certain anxiousness
That shook with the reach of your hand.
Slowly watching a different you appear.
No longer soft, genuine.
Left with the answer to why most facades exist.
A simple truth I myself overlooked in the way that I loved you.
Instead, taking gallons of lighter fluid.
Soaking every inch of myself then placing the box of matches in your hand.
Knowing the outcome. Knowing the difference between right and wrong.
But still having faith that you wouldn't do the things I knew you would.
This was the faith that I had that you were exactly who you said you were,
that you loved me the same exact way that I loved you.
Misconstruing the spark from the box of matches as the spark I seen when we first met.
Mistakes are not uncommon, in most cases it's what's done after that really matters.
Despite the sudden jitters that overwhelmed you, I provided my arms as a place of shelter.
A place that without question, you'd know without a shadow of a doubt would always have comfort.
Never truly realizing that most things of that nature are treated as one sided.
A incomplete truth, selfish in the same nature. 
No matter what superficial truth I saw you wrap yourself in to grant ease of comfort.
I was never mad at you,
How could I be mad at you for being who you were all along.
Learning a fraction, as to why wolves often choose sheep's clothing

She was the smoke that arose from the tip of my cigarette,
Covering me with her essence.
Insisting that I wrap my lips around her.
I held her tight,
Staining my fingers with her.
Not once did she have to prove what was seen as clear she as could have indicated.
That she was mine just as much as I was hers.
A film of smoke dancing between us both,
I knew the damage that she caused internally.

Eternally. None of that mattered as our communication was silent.
Knowing what we both sought in each other.
Replacing my need with her very embrace.
Not once was it hard to breathe. Staining my lips with desire.
Thumping the layers of where we stood off into the wind.
Enticing me with the bright spark that set her ablaze.
The thrill of her knowing that I craved her.
******* her with my eyes.
Granting me the clarification of a moments peace.
I wrapped my lips around her,
Blowing her back out as the smoke that filled my lungs.
A lukewarm kiss, her lips pressed against mine.
We accepted each other as we were.
Standing in solace.
We no longer belonged to ourselves but each other

Their feathers surrounded by the many trees and the many houses that sit down below.
They don't know the meaning of cages, why should they.
The majority of them that are fortunate,
The thoughts that make us feel in-etiquette.
Self doubt,
The reason their chrup's reign the highest.
The majority that are fortunate.
Rejoicing in the moment presented as now.
Repenting with each flap of their wings.
They are free.
Sitting on top of cable wires and cable poles.
Warming their feet.
Taking the many offers the world presents to them as the things we overlook.
A small reminder that silence is necessary

With a much more serious face nowadays,
Deeper in tone. Quick in wit.
The question now is what's wrong.
The deep thought that plagues a curious mind.
Am I wrong for smiling at such a question,
The fact that something appears to be wrong.
Thus must be it.
In fact nothing is wrong.
Just a random impulse I suppose.
To reign in as a material savior,
Something seen in flesh. The curve of eyes.
Everything would be better now, right.
Supplying you with a simple answer that appears to be solution to your unjust problem.
To what means dictates that I reveal every thought.
Just because you ask of it.
Single bodied to one word.
By then would you be justified leaving me empty.
Outside appearances are indeed deceiving then, right.
Making assumption to problematic gesture.
In the end should we both then be disappointed.
The promise of a future with no past.
Decorative in a sense.
Made to fill the gaps of silence, 
If at all it eases your mind.
No, nothings wrong.

 

The mere fact that I like that your leading me on
Reveals a lot about how I feel about you, continuing to sit here.
Such abuse.
In fact, I implore you to continue.
Tell me more of your infectious lies.
What do you really think of me.
Fill the gaps of my curiosity.
The single body that you speak of contains more than one word.
Educate me on the subject of your well being.
Am I worth touching on in thought.
Do I bore you this much.
Don't speak, I fear I know the answer already.
I've become immune to your poison.
I adore it so.
Outside appearances are deceiving.
Quite so, point of the matter.
You were waiting all along for me to ask you

I've pictured us together over a million times,
Not wanting to leave each time you've appeared.
Each emotion growing deeper with each visit.
The thick of each others grasp.
The sun symbolizing the height of emotion set in each other's eyes.
The feel of lips against the tide of endless bliss.
The thought of dreams becoming reality.
The thought of you walking in.
You here in my arms in an endless loss of breath.
The plight of anticipation.
The clench of hands tossing and turning in release
Holding on to the moments seen through low cut eyes.
The times I wish would never end.
Wishing you could stay

Then out the blue, she grabbed and held me tight.
I suffocated in a bushel of hair bunched together in  messy bun.
Resting my nose against the top of her head
My nose stood in a wool forest,
Her head buried deep in my chest.
In this moment I realized that words aren't needed for every occasion.
I wrapped my arms around her holding her even tighter.
Nestling her in my arms. 
The metal ball from the ceiling fan clang against the glass from the light fixture.
In proportion to the color of the room the sound brought more comfort.
The repeated clang of metal against glass.
When everything in the house goes quiet and nothing can be heard except for that sound.
Just being yourself in utter silence.
The comforter still wrinkled from where you last sat.
Without question I suppose we both felt like we were home.
In our own little way

There is a life lesson found upon your lips.
A secret to life transcendence.
No longer consistent to the thought of what happens next.
This is the value of your lips.
A connection of where dream becomes reality.
Curious to how a simple desire can find it's way to someday.
Some day equating to here, now, the comfort of knowing there is a vast well
of purpose.
A deep sense of need.
This is how I bumble across your lips.
Fumbling in anticipation.
A seminar that's somehow found it's way into everyday.
Lost in every word, taking those same words and placing them somewhere
where they mean much more.
This place is in my heart.
Immersing myself in the way that I see you.
Presenting myself in a way that contributes to constantly looking up.
The value of making myself present everyday.
Engaging my eyes in a way that you can't help but notice.
A innovative sense of passion.
Knowing to touch, taste.
This goes far beyond each throb that triggers my heart to beat a bit harder.
A tad bit faster.
Collectively, this same vast sensation is cause by you.
This pure breakthrough of appearing meek as I've humbled myself in the footnote of our next conversation.
Creating the insight that I now know why I bumble across your lips.
Finding that I was never inside of myself at all.
That I was merely on the outside, catching myself stare at you.
This crackle of electricity buzzing of a broken line.
As I've filtered everything out that isn't your voice.
Excited by the thrill of not knowing what to do with all this excitement that you've caused.
Relaxed in the way that the wire sizzles, knowing that nothing is wrong.
But instead, realizing that everything happens just as it's suppose to

Somethings are easier to explain than most.
But what gets me is that everyone fails to mention what happens to the moth after the flame is extinguished.
The sorrow that escapes through the air as black smoke.
The burning smell of a wick sweltering in the remains of liquid wax.
Soon to harden as if nothing has happened.
And the moth, forever left with it's essence
Soon left alone, blinded.
Not knowing which way to go

There is a certain feeling that arrives soon as the thought approaches.
A sort of dream like feeling that comes to take over what ever mood,
What ever presence that is shallowly felt.
In truth it's the best part of the day.
Finally putting yourself first and making that special trip to ultimate comfort.
A place that you've been but never felt until the feeling grabs you as mutual.
Truth of the matter, life couldn't be as grand as you can imagine it.
The mental aspect of anticipation.
The thought alone is breathtaking.
Taking everything in stride, promising not to stay gone long.
Going to a place that you've always known.
Following a gut instinct, it's only natural.
Not fully understanding it's depth until having left
To truly know just how much it means.
Going home

Once upon a time
There once lived a swine.
He loved to travel.
Unraveling himself in solemn novel.
Along with a apple.
He'd often babble.
With a book won from raffle,
He'd stand bowleg and baffled.
He'd often tattle
Not meaning to ramble.
Standing bowleg and baffled.
His face a smooth red cackle.
The look on his face outdone.
The zipper on his pants came undone.
Far from the favorite son
Those whom seen would make fun.
Of a swine whom despised bacon kind.
Losing peace of mind.
He soon became unkind.
Confined by bacon kind.
He'd straighten a leather belt
Soon a hand seldom dealt.
Soon a bag of rind.
Some kind of stew, cordon bleu.
With much displeasure.
Read the obituary.
And to think its almost February

Underneath the umbrella
A room was filled,
A girl, a boy.
 
Underneath the umbrella
A home became mobile,
White & blue stripe.
 
Underneath the umbrella
The rain fell upward,
Finding a way.
 
Underneath the umbrella
There was a leak,
A girl, a boy, suffocating.
 
Underneath the umbrella
They drowned,
Finding eternal bliss

There really isn't a reason to become complacent,
Don't worry about insecurity as there is no better time than now.
Regardless of what I am doing or what is going on there is always time.
What ever thought that attempts to pursue the angels from your shoulder.
What ever storm cloud that threatens the halo hanging above your head.
I'll be there to protect you in your time of need.
To reassure that the lightening you fear is just the sizzle of how comfortable my heart is, laying in the palm of your hand.
Though at times some thoughts will become mutual, just as I've been through some things.
I know you have too, and don't at all consider this a attempt to buy
or sway you of anything different.
Sculpting stone replication of you. Devoting my time making sure every feature is as close to perfect as possible.
What ever has happened before is just that, and would never constrict the blocks that I've placed around you to keep you safe.
Art takes on may a form and there will be no vandalism of any feature on you.
I admit, as each day grows shorter there is a high priority of what we make precious.
A small devotion of time stacked and organized to reach the height of eternity,
And with each day you grow more precious.
learning more about you. Stacking block against block until the realm of heaven is reached.
Seeing you for you and not just the hard exterior that you present to protect yourself from the world.
 
Choosing to instead loath in picture perfect representation of arms
Of the statue I've built of you.
Molding your smile in clay, soon to harden for all to see.
Folding your hands in ultimate prayer as the birds mock the many angels that float around your head.
Taking a minute only to rest in your arms, to continue building the rest of you
In due time.
Basking in just how precious you are

I never thought twice about it
Catching a glimpse of her from behind.
Red stilettos, long slender legs
Tight black dress,
Orb like body.
Though the thought of approaching her never crossed my mind
I noticed that one of her stilettos came off as she hurried to wherever she was headed.
I made haste, calling out to grab her attention reaching to grab the missing shoe before she got too far in front of me.
She hesitated coming to a complete stop.
Seeming that she was one of those girls that was always on the go.
Very accomplished, well educated.
But her here, out of all places.
Something seemed off.
She gave the appearance that she had to make it to wherever she was going
So I rushed the shoe over to her.
The thought of something so innocent never crossed my mind to be so fatal.
The closer I approached the stiller she became.
Alone in the dark,
Along the troubles of the world this I understood and assured her that I meant no harm.
Shoe in hand, I extended my arm attempting to give her shoe back.
I took one more step,
At this pivotal moment is where I wished that gut instinct kicked in.
At this same exact moment is when she turned around.
Revealing that not all was what it appeared to be.
An couple sets of extra eyes, a few extra legs.
This was where my arachnophobia began

The simple things are often said to be the best things in life,
As the opening of doors are better than the sound of closed doors.
The silence of sheets laid still under a thick comforter.
You and I.
Walking down the hallway hand and hand.
Staring in the window of each others soul.
Sharing a laugh or two in the midst of deep conversation.
Something silly, something witty.
Something simple.
Someone like you.
Someone to share a laugh in relation to how similar we saw the world growing up.
Did you really think it would end so fast.
Growing up to see how much we differ, how many things are still the same.
Fighting over what to watch, what we're going to eat if we ever manage to get out of the bed.
Old habits die hard especially after a long day at work.
The simple things that bring us closer together.
Whether we decide to go out and try something new or lay here a moment longer,
No matter how much we get on each other's nerves.
I'll still kiss your forehead
As it's the simple things that make life worthwhile

Along the lines of miscommunication war broke out.
A civil discord of peace mistaken for chaos.
The clatter of pins layered on one another, pulled from grenades, thrown at the last minute. shattered through the air.
Devouring everything it touched.
This was how I saw her heart.
Flung through the air.
Gripped firmly. Released by loose hands.
A explosion scattering dirt and grime.
A slight ticking pacing back and forth.
Debating the result of action.
Broke apart from shell and casing.
This was the end result of the nights she spent awake contemplating.
Was there ever room for compromise. Accepting reason as excuse.
This was the first time I noticed how stubborn hearts can be.
Doomed to explode at any given moment. Hearing every reason but their own. Detonation was imminent.
Her heart packed tight in shell and casing.
The smell of gun powder lingered in the air.
The sound of ammo being loaded in metal cartridges.
Jammed tight in automatic rifle.
For each bullet I loaded into the cartridge was a bit of reassurance that what I knew in my heart was right.
The fact that action spoke louder that words could be seen from every one of her grenades, the steam arising from the nose of my rifle in defense of why.
This was the sound of my heart firing shot after shot
Reigning from soot covered hands.
Not of hate. But as a means of trying to breakdown the wall of her understanding.
The sound of our argument could be heard from miles on end.
The ground soiled in yellow explosion covered with piece after piece of her heart.
The aftermath of bullets layered in thick walls.
There I stood in premeditated assault in belief that we were on separate sides defending  what we perceived as right.
Alone our boots shook the ground that trembled in fear.
Hidding behind walls completely missing the point that if we truly fought for the same cause,
Who'd truly win if we continued. Destroying nothing but ourselves in the process

Inside there lays a sort of guilt.
Insuring that the electric company does their job.
The only problem is most nights there is never anything worthwhile watching.
I often question the receptacle, the thought of changing cable providers.
I thought of saving myself, turning the tv off and going to sleep.
But where's the fun in that.
Watching colors run frantically across the screen.
The flick of a button brings a different hue.
A different click of the screen lock checking for notifications, plugging my phone back on the charge.
By passing all the channels at least twice before finding a show that fills the 30 minute gap.
The hard part of favorite shows is that most time they come on when either there's not enough time. Or someone spoils the ending.
Either way here I am looking for something to devote my time.
And here I am, seeking
Some kind of reassurance that you'll return after the infomercials.
My new favorite show.
You

And then it happened.
I came face to face with my ex.
Not much has changed from the last time we spoke.
When I was younger there use to be a sense of grief.
That somewhat odd feeling that overshadowed everything good in my life.
Suddenly watching the clouds go from bright white to a dull gray.
I hated thunderstorms back then.
I'd like to think that I've learned a lot sense then though.
Watching her eyeball me with a sense of curiosity.
Slowly learning the fact that I seemed to be doing a lot better without her.
You know those looks that reveal a lot without so much as a word being said.
She had plenty of those, often catching herself in mid sentence.
Her naturally low cut eyes now lower.
I wouldn't actually describe her as being a addition or nowhere close to a binge.
But more so one of those random nights you get hammered and wake up the next morning trying to figure out what happened.
No not at all. Again I am being modest.
If anything she was one of those drinks with a acquired taste.
The kind of drink someone offers you in attempt to try something new and though it tastes bad you still drink it out of generosity as it was a kind gesture.
Not at all stating that she was a bad person. No she was very sweet.
In fact I am glad that I had opportunity to bump into her again.
But a lot of time has elapsed sense then.
And seeing how time works I am no longer the same person.
Though I must admit,
First seeing her I was a bit puzzled, as those dark clouds that normally follow were nowhere to be seen.
Nor the crackling of a long drawn out bolt of lightening.
Both probably caught in traffic, Arguing over which came first.
If anything, she knew I had a high tolerance as far as drinks are concerned.
But again I am being corrigible.
Yet, this time I didn't miss the exit sign on my way out the door as normally I'd walk pass it twelve times, mistaking it for something else.
In a strange twist we neither dismissed each other nor omitted each others presence.
I walked out the door, while she was busy finishing what was left of her fiancee