It is possible.
To leap beyond where fear takes us.
Surely so many things happen.
By contrast
We stand still.
Wound up in total curiosity.
To dream in wonderment.
With each twirl we captivate the essence of someone else.
A sort of inspiration that convinces us that we are more than what we believe.
Beginning to walk,
Our other functioning parts come to life.
Embraced in true courage.
Spun around and round.
This huge metal behind it's back.
Suddenly this obstacle isn't what it seems.
First finding what is important.
The touch of someone else
Through encouragement.
The wind-up doll begins to move
No longer incapable by what we define as fear,
But enormous faith.
To place all of it's self in another
Without fear of adding another chip to it's face.
It waddles along.
Moments later,
Pride interferes.
It's movements stop.
To be spun up again and again
Falling to the floor
Seconds at a time

I love you to pieces.
All of you being my favorite.
After a long day, I look forward to seeing you.
Being around you.
I constantly loose myself in your eyes.
Every moment with you a blessing.
Whether it's early in the morning
Or late at night.
I love every moment.
My chocolate peanut butter craving starts and ends with you.
I can't help but smile.
Thankful that your not wrapped in tin foil.
A moment of trust easily accessible.
By far the greatest gift I could ever receive.
I accept all of you.
Delectable pieces poured into my hands.
Sensually sharing hidden parts of ourselves.
Every inch uncovered beneath coated chocolate.
Creamy peanut butter.
Soon melted away by tastes desire.
It's practical to see why I have to call in sick.
Spending all my time with you.
Your taste still on my lips.
Stomach still aching.
My chocolate peanut butter craving.
Thank you for being you

Put me to sleep
I says put me back to sleep
and lock the door


I got some place to be
Got someones to see.


You can't understand
You surely can't understand


I needs to dream my same dream
I needs to dream my same dream I says


This old life does me no good
My eyes, they need to be closed I says.


Finds me a woman I met sometime last night


No madder how I tell it,
You can't understand this thang I know fo' certain.


I says put me back to sleep
I says put me back to sleep
Can't you see
I got some place to be
Got someones to see

In the center of my heart
She planted a tree.
Happiness a branch I'd soon know.
The leaves sprouting in full with
no limitation to height.
The roots carry the depth of how far
her hands have gone.
Planting the seed I'll always feel.
Soaring into the sky without limit.
To how much is given, how much we take.
The fruit of a smile ripe at every moment.
A gap for us to sit between the branches.
The moment fear of falling has gone.

The higher we climb.
The higher we sit.

In the morning her eyes paint the cities horizon.
Stretching and yawning.
Getting dressed; Her blue tapestry.
Opening the door to her apartment
She climbs down broken stairs.
It's payday Friday.
The mail man is late again.
Opening her box closing it right back.
She considers direct deposit,
Climbing back up those old creaks in the stairs.
To a notice on the door.
Excessive noise complaint
Rent past due

Asking a question does more than fill open space.
It expresses curiosity.
Devolving into things not easily expressed.
Given our availability.
It expresses a deeper need for connection.
Whether we are open to what we desire most.
Closed off to preference.
 The right time of day or night we can de-clutter.
Taking in what we give out.
Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom.
Or merely because your there.
It expresses a thought that requires action.
That I've thought of you.
That there is a desire laid bare.
An anticipation that builds until the next time
I am able to hear your voice.
For the more serious moments require a deeper tone.
An ear that senses deeper need.
Responding to this deep need of connection.
A need of care.
A need of longing.
To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility.
But in the openness of being

She was a flower,
Blossoming in each direction she stepped.
A flower tucked in a rose woven sweater.
She grew thorns to protect herself from those whom sought to misuse the essence of her beauty.
The spread of her fragrant bud, spreading her petal in the midst
of where she stood.
Paying no never-mind to her roots, her petals withered.
Applying water to everywhere accept where it was needed most.
They continued to pass, her sweater now dingy.

The ***** of different fingers, she no longer swayed the same.

A season of orange and red leaves.
Then came the winter. Hard but fair

Robbing her of all the beauty she possessed.

It was when her petals fell that she remembered what mattered most

And like a bird
She flies away.
She sings her song in ultimate joy.
Her heart flutters.
Singing what comes to mind.
Soon as she is approached.
She flies away.
The wind beneath her arms.
She goes higher and higher.
Stopping in mid air,
Her arms tired & sore.
The life she deserves isn't far.
Gliding towards the horizon.
Soon as she finds peace.
It is easily disturbed.
Looking around to find the best place.
Seeking shelter she flies further.
Appearances aren't at all what they seem.
For this she is labeled and taken for granted.
Curiously placing one foot in front of the other.
Veering the opposite direction.
Her heart falling faster and faster.
They don't know her worth.
She flies higher and higher

To be poured like a drink.
The bubbles fizz.
Gathered around, enriched in desire.
To quench the pursuit of pleasure.
Snapping the top proceeding to pour.
Cold to taste.
This was the comfort I felt surrounded
in her arms.
A glass seen half full continuing to pour.
Filling the space around.
Drowning just beneath the rim of glass.
An extension of myself caught in great advantage.
The settlement before the first sip.
Compensating the thrill of being swallowed whole.
In terms of affection.
It was a hug I'd never forget.
A thought that leads into physical manifestation.
The bliss of the moment,
The moment her lips pop at the taste.
Bubbles fizz crackling in the midst of excitement.
Tickling her nose.
The memory of how things were.
Drunk until nothing is left
The reality of how things really are

Eyes do speak.
It's funny how they perceive the things around.
The broken conversations heard by fully complexed ears.
I believed that I'd be ok.
The conclusions that eyes draw.
Never making sense of the words heard.
I believed it to be my biggest mistake.
Falling for the beautiful images seen.
Following sight, my first love.
Pain is often beautiful, layered one color after another.
The stories that unfold given enough time.
The initial cause and effect, forgetting the love immortalized before anything
was ever heard.
The intimacy that eyes will only understand/
Speak to me and I'll fully understand.
She'd never been in love.
I gazed intensely
Still I pursued

In the crease of her fingers
Is where she held me.
A history of thought,
Filtered.
Flaked off at the end.
It was her fingers I felt most comfortable.
That I could truly do anything.
Stuck between her middle and pointer finger.
Held high, upright.
Unprecedented in eclipse.
She'd press me to her lips.
Resuscitated.
Flaked at the tip.
Scatter ash
Where I felt most alive.
Nestled in the bend of her fingers.
My building without escape.
She'd set fire to my head.
& like a mad man I'd lay still.
This smoke, a place I wanted to be.
Our bad habit persisting
Day in and day out.
The only fact perhaps we truly have.
I'd unravel in loss of responsibility,
The nook of her fingers,
A universal sense of comfort.
Withered down.
Tossed to the wind.
Our history made short,
Recognizing that we were doomed from the start.
Smoking in front of the no smoking sign,
A habit we can't put down

When you hold me.
Hold me like you'll never let go.
Of all the uncertainty in the universe.
I ask that this isn't one of those things.
To melt into your warmth.
If nothing else is certain you've made a difference
in my life.
With a hug so tender.
I've never been so sure of anything.
Your skin pressed against mine.
Our eyes closed tight.
I dare not open them.
Ruining a perfect moment.
When you are in my arms theres no such thing as distance.
Time seems to walk around us.
Without so much as a single word,
Nowhere in particular to be.
These moments like stars, shooting before our eyes.
Accumulating in the pool of our eyes.
Unable to describe the feeling.
You in my arms.
On of the many things I love about you

My love for you isn't just a feeling.
It's a civilization.
It's a group formed in unorganized noise.
A commotion of expression purposely existing
the sole purpose of you.
Living & breathing.
A jumbled language overheard.
Stenciled with each patter of foot.
Every horn honked.
Each lane clogged with the thought of you.
A foundation built from the ground up
in means to explore.
A stone age modernized.
Misinterpreted by the desire of fire.
Protected.
Built upon.
Built into the tallest building, which I call your name.
My love for you is like the plane that flies overhead.
Roaring loud in repetition.
Tedious nooks & crannies.
Places to shop, things to see.
All the things I see when I look into your eyes.
My love for you a province of sorts.
The smell seared in a pan. Best served on a plate for two.
A mix of different pastas, vegetables.
Fried in upbeat cafe, different aromas.
The chit chat different versions of me.
Complimenting the very essence of you.
A new building erected with cranes and steel beams.
Plastered dry wall.
Soon opened for your arrival

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

Fear is a language all on its own.
Although broken, we understand soon
as we hear it.
No matter how well spoken
No matter how intuitive or savvy
We sabotage ourselves well after the
moment has passed.
I stepped outside of myself when I met
you.
Bilingual & open,
No matter how far you move or I.
I'll always remember you
I've memorized you in my heart
Where fear does not exist

Life gets tough when you aren't around.
Without none of the things you have to offer.
So much as the ease of a smile.
But what I love most about it.
I am not embarrassed or afraid to admit that it's the most powerful element.
At which point the sun shines it's brightest.
The highlight of my day.
We give our words with meaning that follows the philosophy our bodies react.
Naturally.
We enrich this belief.
Sharing our hopes.
Our dreams.
An intellect that requires what we find precious.
Time loses ego.
We relate without rush.
A fear we occupy our time with selfishness.
The things we use to compensate and further hide ourselves.
Being able to admit the things we otherwise keep hidden.
To travel the recesses of mind we lay bare.
The baritone which not only grasps attention but intent.
In full intimacy.
The way we came into the world.
Not beginning to know or further define the things we hide.
We cry not for attention but understanding.
We tend to go through transitional periods not out of hurt.
But to appreciate that we never take this simplicity for granted.
Without you, I admit.
Life gets tougher.
But it's these exact moments I hope to earn.
The sensuous moment time loses ego.
Not in war but in ultimate expression of the time it takes to love you.
It's gonna take years

Regret melts slow,
dripping from the side.
It feels like skin being tugged against,
the impression left from
my hand to yours.
The anticipation of being patient
burns and flickers,
excitedly proud to be included.

Your back, the wick that stands straight,
slowly curving,
stretching, releasing tension.
Your legs wrapped in mine.
If you were to blow too hard,
the flame would whoosh,
leaving nothing but a puddle.
The people we were
staring, looking at the mess.

The rest of my strength
supports your arch,
the curled wick that's grown tired
against my chest.
No matter how you lay,
I am comfortable in your wild stretch.
Sleep surrounding both of us—
I have your back, your heart.
The crisp edges of your hair tangled
On my head

The smoke of desire soots and breathes,
dried in a puddle of wax

A large percentage of my favorite dreams end too soon.
My eyes open and I regret the moment I open them.
A large percentage of my favorite dreams ending too soon.
While I lay there unable to find my way back.
A large portion of my life spent unaware of my surrounding
until I wake up.
The reality that I'll never find my way back.
Some of my best smiles, favorite memories of what could have been.
Discovered while I leave everything behind
And close my eyes for seconds longer
This unexpected moment I close my eyes & begin to dream.
My eyes skipping through every smile.
To see where I end up, the faces I haven't seen in a long time
Re-Living a moment of peace.
When my eyes open
It's not completely the dream I resent why I open my eyes.
It's the complete and utter feeling of not knowing what could have been.
Known that you were the sweetest dream I could have fallen into
Stumbling in and out of every laugh.
Known the sweetest kiss I could have ever dreamed
Came from you

In contemporary belief.
A archer went to a shaman for relief.
A answer to ease fear of thoughts.
Finding his way home, the trail of war became too much.
He struggled with the regret of building a life away from what he knew.
When he came to the shaman.
The shaman hung his head low.
Smelling the stinch of blood.
Still he could not turn his back to the archer.
When posed with the young archers question.
He sat puzzled. Summering the long winded statement to "a great change must be made. Else all will fade."
Knowing of the young archers longing for a maiden.
The archer looked puzzled.
Yet the shaman spoke nothing else.

The young archer was called upon.
A war broke on the opposing side.
They needed his skill in fear that survival was utmost.
Without time to think the archer grabbed his bow. His arrows and darted quickly in the direction the war has taken place.
He quickly coiled arrow to bow. In repeated motion until none were left.
A field of arrows covered the small space.
War does something to a man.
A brief clarity after the slaughter of contemplation.
The shamans words dawned upon him like a snake.
He darted to the shamans place in great discoverly.
Finding that the shaman as well as his possessions were completely gone without trace.
He darted back to the field.
Searching through a forrest of arrow.
A heart wrenching feeling stuck on his face.
Guiding his way through the arrows he found a familar hand. Connected to a familar torso.
A face stuck in agonizing eternity.
The shamans words made more sense.
Backing away from the body.
Thinking deeply. Damning his hands.
The thing that came as habit.
He broke his bow in the reflection of his maiden's eyes.
This war gone astray inside of him

Nothing is ever time wasted,
just the interlude to the rest of the album. Soon it becomes nostalgia. To think you almost pressed the skip button..
It's all about trying new things.
Slowing were briding the gap.
Looping untold tales of blues and jazz into our samples.
The things considered classical.
Instant vintage.
The things we keep hidden in headphones,
The venerability of hype.
It's always about the crowd.
Afraid to digest something different.
This was the first time I met her.
At first I laughed,
Reaction that I faced my own ignorance.
Listening again finding purpose.
Not knowing that we'd come to spend the rest of our lives together.
All three minutes and forty five seconds.
I was dishonest.
Not revealing anything real about myself until I heard it for the first time.
The first time she sung.
Music.
This wasn't an image to be upheld in front of others.
Or the gossip type spread circle to circle.
I was never exposed to this.
Skimming the top layer ready to press next.
Too far caught in the slander that first impressions can give.
History often repeats itself but this wasn't the case.
This was wholeheartedly the epitome of how she effected me.
The rhythm of how she moved.
How she spoke.
Like that I matured almost instantly.
She became my biggest influence.
A two way street that bridged the gap of my own ignorance.
After time I began to leave my headphones on the dresser.
We were amplified.
She'd follow me everywhere just as I'd follow her.
Soon it caught on to the masses.
Each and every thought became a publicist of what she'd recite over and over again.
A parental advisory issued with every cover.
Finding the one became a catalog.
Stumbling back to the first interlude all over again.
The copyright not for sell

A woman sits on the train.
Watching, waiting for something to happen.
She rushes pass building after building lost in the sights.
The world flying by her window seat.
One track at a time.
Fixed between one common place to another.
She turns her head.
A man reads the paper.
Headline covered by the fold.
Presidential debate.
His hold is tight, side eyeing the woman beside him.
Her round face.
Randomly clicking on her phone.
Bored.
Social media sites.
Candy crush.
He views in full.
The air is cool.
Cool enough to put you to sleep.
She wonders if anyone notices her.
She yawns,
lips printed on the reflection of buildings.
She quickly looks away.
The train passes.
Overhead she sees a plane.
Never has she flown.
To see the sights above.
Would the experience be the same.
Travel size smile.
Hand bag at rest.
The train rushing faster and faster.
The buildings now out of sight.
The plane races on.
She turns her head.
Now she's asleep

Blow a kiss & show me
What true liberation and
Desire look like, I deserve it
& when I see you, I am coming
With you. With nothing but
Excitement and the best intention.
I would love nothing more than that.
It doesn’t matter the list of places.
The first, second, or third destination.
I’d really just like to go hallucinate
With you In the wilderness.
A language that needs no translation.
No matter where we stand, mentally
We are where we want to be.
Prosperous in each other.
The earth tucked beneath a blanket,
eventually we’ll have to get up
but until then blow a few kisses
& take me with you.
A naked soul free, exploring a dream.
One of the first things that come to mind
Your face on front of a post card.
This memory snuggled up close
In infinity.
Without having to imagine or dream
Where we’ve already been.
Together by the lake,
The mountains nestled low,
One head snuggled into another.
The campfire barely visible, piled in a mess
Together.
Realizing that there’s nothing more perfect
Realizing that we are a dream within a dream.
Realizing that only we can make this a reality.
I want this so bad.
No matter where we stand, mentally.
We are where we want to be.
Each other’s everywhere & everything
in between.

Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally.
Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love.
We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling.

The initial look that begins as taste. Naturally we are starved.

Aroused by the scent that lures us close. This thing, love.

One thing we must learn is self control. To not over indulge in the primary reason it exists.

To selfishly take because it's there. This thing, love.

Effort exudes as it becomes habit. Being placed at a table readily available for what portion comes next.

This need becomes confused with want.

To please others before our need in unselfish manner. A straight forward response to habit.

The rising availability of also being taken for granted. The insurmountable outline that defines lust.

Our intake becomes higher attempting to justify the difference. Thus we become lazy.

Reacting in ways we normally wouldn't. This thing, love.

This scent acts as incentive,  instantly attracted by which we over indulge.

Searching for this thing, love.

It's a reasonable thing. Knowing when to reach. When to pull. When to give and sacrifice.

Almost always all of these happen, learning self control, vocalizing when we've had our fill.

Else we will continue to eat until there is nothing left.
Grown obese. This thing, love

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

She told me that she never had real spaghetti before.
Of course she's had spaghetti before but not in the sense that made it worthwhile.
When I asked why she replied that it didn't feel real.
That in a sense it was pasta.
She always broke the noodles when she made it.
She developed a fear that everything would boil over and catch fire.
That part of the noodles would be too crunchy.
All of it would never fit in the ***.
Her mother always broke the noodles so it just became habit.
In the same breath.
She told me at least once,
That she'd like to twirl the noodles around the fork.
The complete taste and feel of what makes it spaghetti.
The cheese blending into the sauce.
The big ball of noodles just wrapping around the fork waiting to be bit.
When I asked about the meatballs she laughed,
She was vegetarian

She unravels herself like a rose  
In the palm of my hand.  
Some of her petals break off  
And lay to the side
The pain of growth,  
Making room for something new.  

She looks me in the eye,  
The tension of letting go  
Of reasonable fear.  
Too many lonely nights.  
The crescent moon of every lie  
Hovers over her head.  

Piece by piece,  
She's laid that insecurity in my hands,  
That uncertainty in her eyes,  
Slowly turning into trust.  
Seeing that I didn’t discard  
The pieces of her that flaked off,  
In my hands.  
Regardless of how bad they look,  
They are a part of her.  

She twists and she turns,  
Her thorns piercing my skin,  
One after another.  
With confidence, I don’t have to tell her  
That I am not afraid.  
But I do so anyway.  

The crescent moon that hangs  
Above her head fills out  
And becomes full.  
As comfortable as she seems,  
Fear still lingers.  
No matter how much she  
Lets go,  
She's been let down before.  

In time, my hands will become  
A vase that will protect her from harm,  
And my heart a place  
That will warm her always.  
When the day comes she knows,  
With certainty, that I am not afraid,  
I will still tell her
I am not afraid

I am an immigrant
lost in a foreign land.
lost in the language.
Abandoned in the promise of home.
Sacrifice wells its tears in the eyes.
Alone, further the thought sits in.
The breaking of trust twists
and turns in the chest.
Not a soul to turn to.
Not anything reminiscent of home.
The thought of your name brand new.
A place my dreams could roam free.
Stuck in the anticipation of being
a part of you.
I've wandered the streets of your name.
Ambition, now lost and afraid.
Once eager to climb the ladder of your
streets.
In truth all of it was a dream.
Your kiss now dried, now hallow.
Your hand now chipped and flaked.
I've told you my truths
My dreams.
You've turned a blind eye.
Swallowing me in your cracks.
Forever lost in the dark

I sought love.
Drinking from the cup of your hand.
I learned to replenish which you pour.
I made sure your hands were always full.
Continuing to hold what you've poured into life.
My life.
Finding a language stirred to life.
To confess what's on our mind.
It takes a steady hand to fill the gap of what's missing.
Your hand to my lips.
An ideal devotion to being our natural self.
Finding ourselves half full.
Our thirst softening the more we pour

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

Some of the best smiles happen at the most random moment.
Coming quick, fast.
Out of the blue.
Our lips burst and expose this wonderful happening.
Motivation to take the next step of all we carry.
The things we keep hidden.
It often comes effortless, a sort of spoken word expressed only by face.
A sensual proverb foretold by kings and queens.
Humble by nature.
The clouds pass without strife.
Forever inspired by what sets their soul a blaze in the remedy of patience.
Inherited by the same spontaneous moment we smile.
The sun isn't always dictated with an upward look.
Sometimes it just happens to be where you are.
At the part of your lips.
Unconditionally given

While the world is asleep
I lie awake in a dream that feels real
because I am with you.
They'll lie still and we won't disturb
them.
It's you that I only get this feeling
around.
I accept that I am awake because you
are here
There is no other fact.
While the world is asleep
I want to explore everything that I can.
Without interruption.
Without the triple bypass of work.
More than enjoying your company for
what it is.
Like croissants in Paris
After climbing the Eiffel tower with you
on my back.
Or counting how long it'll take to bend
the curvature of the tower into the
shape of your heart.
While the world is asleep
They'll lie still and we won't disturb
them.
& When they awake,
They'll think it was all a dream
By the time we finish explaining what
took us so long to get back

Take the scissors,  
And cut around the edges of my heart.  
Don't worry about how it looks.  
Fold whatever part of me  
That you need to make the first cut.  
I'd be surprised if you find any part  
Of me that's folded neat.  
The kaleidoscope of construction  
Paper that is me.  
  
I consider myself a collection  
Of scars and different colors—  
Of the things that I like and dislike.  
Even the wrinkled pieces of myself  
I've forgotten about.  
You've brought light to those pieces  
With each snip of your scissors.  
I've noticed how quiet and content  
You've become.  
  
You cut, and I bleed in color—  
Purple, blue, and yellow.  
Of all the shapes you've cut,  
None of them are painful.  
Watching you mix up the different color pieces of my soul,  
Your love, the stick glue that  
Gives these pieces more functionality.  
  
I breathe easier, knowing that you're here.
No longer restricted  
By stagnant stillness.  
You can even fold them into an  
Airplane and sail across the room.  
I haven’t had this much fun  
In a long time.
Don't forget the scrap pieces

She told me that she loves deep
& the swell of her heart
Holds so much water.
I myself never believed that
The world was round.
The clouds themselves
hang their shoulders
Out the dresses the sun has woven
& the sky proves that night gowns
Are not only brought in stores.
She told me that she loves deep
& the swell of her heart
Holds so much water.
With the stars of her eyes
Lighting the way.
I'll find a way
If she were to close her eyes
& the stars were to disappear
From the sky.
I am forever thankful.
Adorned in the swell
Of her heart

I am a fool,
Waiting for your return
Every time you leave.
I pretend to ignore you.
Sitting here patiently waiting
For you to come back.
The things said that aren't meant.
The way you turn your back,
The last word before storming out the door.
I am a fool.
Leaving the door unlocked.
Waiting for your return.
I should be happy with pretending.
The breath of fresh air that soon misses your face.
I'll be a fool
I'll be a fool to lock the door.
I'll be a fool to call knowing you'd press ignore.
The things said that aren't meant.
The anticipation that waits for that door to open.
Nowhere to go.
I am a fool, standing by the door.
I've run out of things to do.
Waiting on you to come back.
I'll be a fool to ignore what's in plain sight.
I'll be a fool

She is a Goddess held upright
In the light.
Her face shines blossoming among the clouds.
The words she speaks are of lyrical proportion.
Her body is a temple of sheer devotion,
One whom I worship. Yearning to protect.
She shines her light upon me,
Revealing the inner working of her mind.
The hieroglyphics and pamphlets deciphered by gentle lips.
Shes not just another girl nor another woman.
Her crown is woven above her brow, easily mistaken as hair.
Her influence knows no bound.
Devouring every inch of my thought.
Her voice is infinite,
Her soul dances as a child knowing the beauty of outside.
She is a Goddess of love, one of infinite wisdom.
Her sighs are one with the wind.
Spreading throughout the whispers of her voice.
Filling my dreams with the lucidity of open eyes.
I close my eyes and see her standing there.
I smile, picturing her soul dance as freely as a child knowing the beauty of being outside.
If only she knew what I saw everytime I looked at her

Sometimes I think you are a fairy.
Everytime you appear everything gets better.
It's always unexpected.
Not that I don't expect you to show your pretty face.
It's how you appear.
Seeing you whole.
Though curious to where you hide your wings.
No matter how many times I mix my words up
You know just what I am saying.
Reaching into your bag, sprinkling your dust as you please.
My mouth covered a thousand times over, your essence.


Your words fly right out of your mouth.
And like that I am in awe.
One feeling at a time.
It's funny, how beautiful you are.
The way you sprinkle your pixie dust.
You know just how to pick me up.
The twitch of your nose.
The dimple that forms in your cheek.
The world a distant place.
This moment spent ensuring our distance.
The rest of me in your bag.
I acknowledge how special you are.
I'd never place you in a jar or any form of glass.
I'd never misuse any part of you.
My heart being the concrete that cushions the way you walk.
Your lips the fascination of the sun.
The bigger problem is how you always seem to find me when I am at my lowest.
And how I can never catch you off guard.
Never.
Your whisper in my ear.


Sinking into your presence

Without worry I sit and wonder
When the next batch will come.
Dough rolled out, stretched and pulled,
Broken into pieces and stuck in the oven. Without the confines of an cookie cutter; natural in every way. An free form of emotional bliss laid flat on the pan.
I patiently wait, green plate on the table waiting for the oven to preheat.
The dough rises becoming smaller.
I only hope you understand
How lovely it is to be near someone you love.
Without the concealment of air tight bags they are free, the cookies that bake in the oven soon to be placed on a plate, devoured.
Introduced to the seduction of crumbs that come together; sweet, delightful
Before it fully hardens.
Soft, delightful.
Skinny dipping in an pool of cookie dough.
An illusion of things whole until broken apart by lips in full desire.
Drenched in saliva of deep need
Simultaneously becoming an memory
As well as a part of smiling lips.
The mistletoe that hangs above the heart.
Waiting for another batch made by your hands

She Is home for me.
Anywhere she goes my heart is sure to follow.
The comfort that brings about the biggest smile.
Home being the first place I fell in love with.
Maturing into the memory I'll always know.
A place of acceptance no matter how crazy things get.
This feel good feeling that erupts soon as she is near.
The faster I approach.
The driveway in view.
To tell everyone where I am from.
Where I am going.
Being home is beautiful.
This loving feeling, knowing that I exist inside of you.
Appearing in thought, lounging around.
The beginning of life spent in a warm place.
You are with me every where I go.
My city, my home, my warm embrace.
For me, she is home

And I have this strange feeling.
Memories of us,
Margaritas sipped slow.
Comcast commercials played on repeat.
The weather mild.
First in line.
Patiently waiting to board a flight
Without need for debit card.
Inspired by the look in each other's eyes.
Beats by Dre sponsored by the throb of hearts.
Wandering the gap between songs.
We sip, no longer the ones that got away.
Our silent trips planned moments in advance.
This strange feeling soaring over patio tables, beaches.
Flying away with you in mind body soul.
The many oceans to come.
Highlighting the glare that reflects off our window.
This strange feeling
Becoming more and more familiar

I was caught off guard by the everlasting effect of your smile.
In all honesty I thought I was prepared for the well placed explosion that took place in my heart.
In actuality, I was not.
Absent minded to the total embodiment that was you.
The coming of your lips,
The taste of your stare.
I did not know the effect your voice would have on me.
There wasn't a prayer that could have prepared me for you.
There was nothing left of what my heart use to be.
The occurrence of everything obliterated; Emptied.
The horizon filled by your silhouette; my hands lost in the light cast
by the radiance of your smile.
I was reduced to nothingness in the blink of an eye by a single look cast from
The stare of your eye.
The total sound of nothingness filled my heart with a peaceful hush
after the destruction you've caused with just a single look.

When buildings crumble
& return back to dust
& heads turn in disgust.
Faced with lust & deeds
Of mistrust.

When all else fades
& the stars speckle
Like eons of old dust collected
& swept across the sky,
Time will cease to exist.

While some of us ascend
The staircase.
Not all of us will be so fortunate
In a desert of red.

In any case,
No matter which way you go,
Wait for me.

Wait for me at the floodgate
Which passion percolates &
The stars weep for us as we do
For them.
Don’t breathe without me,
Just as I wouldn’t without you.
Humble & unknowing

I don’t know what’s to become of us
But I do know,
I don’t want to be without you.
When buildings crumble
& return back to dust
When all else fades
& the stars speckle
Like eons of old dust collected
& swept across the sky.

Wait for me,
No matter what happens

You are the sun
That peeks
Through the window,
Letting me know that
It's time to get the day
Started.

You are the roots,
Cut and carved from the trees
That provide shelter,
A place to live,
A place to grow.
A foundation built
From strong roots,
That stretch and wrap around me.

You are the air that circulates
Through my lungs,
The air that, if I think about too long,
I'll mess up how much
You've changed my life.

When I am in you,
I am not in some house,
Nor am I in just any old room.
I realize that I am home,
That I have everything I need.

When I close my eyes,
The first thing I see
Is you,
And how the first thing
I want to do is come back
To you

Hunger changes everything.
Although everyone and everything has intention,
hunger is no different, no matter what it's for.
Your heart, an apple dangling from a branch
I could not reach until I became hungry.
It became the object not just of affection,
but of my appetite.
I wanted not only to bite into it,
but to savor what makes you, you.
I reached until I grabbed it,
the apple that is your heart.
No matter how the branch swayed,
I was determined.

Under any other circumstance,
I would not have touched it,
maintaining composure when it came to
the apple of your heart.
Overthinking myself out of what could have been
one of the most beautiful things,
feeling unworthy,
until hunger made me notice you more.
Want turned to craving,
and I realized that the most precious things
erode and disappear over time.
Half smiling, yet anticipating change,
I know that, in time, I, too, will erode
remembering how sweet you were,
inviting me to quench
not just my hunger, but my thirst.
After a while, it wasn’t about hunger at all.
I just wanted to be close to you

Whenever you speak
I listen carefully.
Finding much needed serenity.
Placing myself in our every private conversation.
The way you could read my mind.
Your voice a familiar place in my ear.
Those full brown eyes that stare off in a dream.
Sometimes I wonder what's on your mind.
My wish to hug you as hard as I can.
Your chest against mine, eyes closed in comfort.
When you speak I am in ultimate comfort.
This comfort of just being around you.
All the little things I've missed so much.
Inches away from my nose.
The times we've shared.
The touch of your lips,
The smile of seeing your face.
Bursting into laughter.
Most of the time you keep quiet.
And that's understandable,
Those full brown eyes caught in a dream.
When you do speak.
Every word becomes that much more precious.
I listen intently,
Knowing just inches from my nose.
Is the result of a dream I've had quite often

In urgent call.
The door opens by elegant wrist.
Her lashes close.
Soft beads of water fresh out the shower.
Made glorious, covering me.
Her scent the tip of my nose.
Every wrong made right.
Sweetened cocoa butter, the hint of mango.
Artesian painting reflects us.
Offering safe passage from tongue to lips.
Open, the taste of delicate skin.
The fragrance of all I'd need.
Seasoned by discovery.
The rediscovery of thought.
The towel drops.
Every breath a caress from which we grew.
A flower in bloom, ripe in unification.
Well soaked in eternal ache.
The artesian painting retouched by desire.
Consistently in the utmost obligation.
Undressed,
The passage of me to you

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

Maybe I love her more.
Then again maybe she loves me more.
To her love is a test.
I know I've missed my share of answers.
I looked at the clock.
Knowing I need to take my time but can't slow down.
In a time I couldn't think she hid my calculator.
Telling me to use my fingers.
I knew the answers, I used them everyday.
Maybe I love her more because I studied.
Then again maybe she loves me more because it was a pop quiz.
But thats ok, because it was open book.

Motivation to love you better

It takes alot
Loving you in these shoes.
It isn't horrible.
The way they fit.
The way they look.
Loving you in these shoes of mine.
It doesn't take much effort.
To slide my feet in.
Tie them, before a single step is taken.
Knowing all that goes unseen.
The padding & cushioning.
The flex of each step,
The urgency of how I long.
Revealing how much I've thought of you.
The many steps and puddles these shoes have walked.
They aren't waterproof.
They aren't well protected from wear & tear.
Loving you in these shoes of mine.
They are far from dress shoes,
Not even close to casual shoes.
They aren't the type of brand shoe everyone is in line to buy.
Stacy Adams, Adidas, Jordan.
Loving you in these shoes,
No one knows where to find them.
How many times they've come loose.
How many times the cushion has been replaced.
Loving you in these shoes of mine.
Knowing you've checked the tags of the name brand shoes.
The appeal of readily available colors

I've taken delicate walks
Where my hand
meets the arch of your back
& I've drowned
In the aroma of the sun kissed sun.
You've caressed in an whisper
where me myself & my thoughts
linger.
The foliage of your lips
Against the edge of my ear.
To where my memories of you are open ended
and bruised by the sigh of a thorn
Covered in black lace.
The glow of blackberry petals
in the September sun.
I've massaged your feet in the soil of my hands
& rested your back against the bend of fingers
Free to stand and grab the sun
against the side of your neck.
Next to my clothes
on the hardwood floor
Next to your blackberry lipstick
on the night stand
where we causally thirst in epiphany
spread far & wide
Over by the Mason jar filled with
Water.
Over by the night stand
Where you & I delicately walk inside
Each other

I love the conversations that we have.
There's no rush involved
A certain amount of logic or
Anything otherwise overbearing.
We might not say that we love each other
in the sense of coming out
& Saying the words, but
We do so in a more fun generously
Giving way.
If I ever slouch or have something
on my face you tell me in a way
that doesn't feel remedial
Or wait until I reach your train of thought,
which could otherwise
Feel embarrassing.
A mutual understanding in patience,
Filling an empty space in my bones.
The cushioning that relaxes and eases
Tension.
No matter how goofy or if we don't see
eye to eye.
You're the only woman I want
To fall asleep on, while
You fall asleep on the couch.
With three perfectly good explanations
Down the hall