With so little time I could not decide.
Shelf after shelf filled with book upon book.
The likes I've dreamed of reading.
Most bookstores have there signs posted.
Opening and closing time.
But this, this was something out of the ordinary.
Not a soul wandering through the isles.
No checkout line.
It was intimate.
Being here alone surrounded by book after book.
Each with a cover beautifully drawn.
Genres of insecurities, dreams, ambitions.
Love.
Any spot on the floor felt like home.
Addressing myself in total seclusion.
Mornings spent in thought embraced by the cold air flowing through the vents.
Afternoons spent without a thing to do.
The nights when a pillow was the only comfort, drifting off to sleep.
Slow rather than fast.
I flipped through page after page.
Wandering from isle to isle undecided in which book I wanted to read first.
Eying the shelves one at a time.
Finding the beauty in what makes you, you.
The marked on pages.
The distraught covers.
With so little time I didn't want to spend every second over-thinking.
Analyzing exactly which stood out the most.
When in actuality.
They all are a part of you

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

And all of this time I hid behind your beautiful brown eyes.
The way they drew me in soft brown.
I found no place safer.
Protected in a memory of lashes.
Delicately drawn,
My new favorite color.
I no longer saw in black and white, deep shades of gray.
What I found was a blanket drenched in warmth.
A warmth I longed to be apart of.
Colored in brown I laid still.
Hoping that you wouldn't notice in fear of being rubbed out.
In fear that you question how I got there and you'd rinse me out, your eyes once again clear.
Rid of the nuance that blocked your view of everything else.
The one thing that would never leave your eye.
The memories shared between you & I

To the princess trapped in the glass bottle.
Take a few steps back, I'm going to bust the glass and catch you before you fall.
If all else fails, at least we'll have this memory to stand  above all else.
I've walked passed you once before,
I never thought to stop.
Reason,
Your lips turned up right, eyes quick to roll.
The silent treatment of turned backs. Ill gotten tempers.
I never once thought through all the complications that the glass was actually dingy.
That you actually could have been tired of being passed up because of how high up you were, the trouble of broken glass.
Jagged grooves. Smooth binges, blind understatements.
I applogize on my behalf,
The labels aren't anywhere as good as they use to be. but I promise.
If you make that silly face one more time.
That one face that equates to "duh"
I'm throwing this rock right at your head.
If you were anymore transparent, I could swear you just rolled your eyes again

Freedom is the urge
That breaks out inside of us that makes us want to run.
An unseen Parkour of hands and feet.
Covering the threshold of walls and windows.
An key to an apartment
Of untold potential.
Seen as a window,
A causal gaze.
Things once seen as 3-D now seen  2-D.
Coming to the realization of just who we really are.
The desire of choosing to see things as brand new
A stillness of sorts.
A new brand of simple.
Holding on to a rail debating on whether or not to jump or hold on for a moment longer.
I.
The infinite compliment of the heart.
Choosing instead to run escaping,
The unfortunate pleasure of being chained in schizophrenia.
Gorillaz beating an untamed drum.
A constant pound, hands and feet becoming the ultimate form of expression.
The scuffle of feet over the sound of concrete.
Lost somewhere in the city.
Gorillaz beating an untamed drum.
******* my thumbs are up.
Unpaused ****** expressions, Revealing perhaps way too much.
A cup of cold noodles quietly waiting wholeheartedly.
Next to the gorillaz loudly stating otherwise.
Them.
The painkiller to an over twisted wrist,
Procrastination is a *****

Sometimes, things wear out.
Creating holes and gaps often complicating the simplest of things.
Sometimes love is a lot like socks.
Some are long, some are short.
Hell some even come up to the height of knees.
Some are bland. Some are colorful.
Baring the fruit of comforting something bare enough to be considered as precious.
Devilish things, socks.
Sometimes they create more problems than they are worth.
Coming apart at the seams,
Getting caught between your toes.
Constantly having to stop and readjust your shoe when no one is looking.
Or flat out just take your shoe off and fix it.
I thought I brought the right size.
Carefully reading the label,
Sometimes that one size fits all is just a lie.
In time all things wear.
Just don't be foolish enough to not enjoy the comfort of the simple things.
This at all isn't comparing you to a pair of socks, no not at all.
If ever I was to become overweight.
You'd be the pair of suspenders that hold my pants up when my belt can't fit anymore

In a strange sort of way.
I've always wished that we've gotten together.
Be it a dream; that we would speak in hellos than good byes.
True love by means of evolvement.
Maybe I shouldn't think of you this way.
To bootleg myself in what I truly believe.
The hope of every possibility.
Your complex occupation.
To say what really matters.
To truly inspire in the midst of what we truly feel.
Consciously low key.
Eyes that take for granted that you'll always be there.
Maybe this is what I low key deserve.
Now knowing to be heard.
The difference between listen.
On another note.
I don't know.
I sort of always thought that would be fire.
To think of you as mine.
To hear the depth of truly knowing how free we are.
Our phones unlocked with complete sincerity, with us humbly mumbling somewhere in the background

Let's take our time
Together
You & I,
Let's not complicate what we feel
The beat of your heart against me.
Undressed.
Unraveling in steady breath,
The places my tongue has tasted.
The nape of your neck,
To your pelvic throb.
Your eyes staring back into mine.
Time but a gasp,
Consumed in the kiss of your neck.
My reflection stares back from your eye.
Ascension of the most high.
Falling deeper & deeper inside of you.
Your legs ensuring that everything is felt.
The mattress supports us,
Lost in current after current of timeless bliss.
The sheets no longer pulled tight,
Half off the bed.
Pillows no longer nice,
neat.
The thoughts we keep of ourself.
Consumed,
Outside of me,
Inside of you.
Beckoning for more.
The rest of the world put on hold hours at a time.
Prolong every moment possible,
Enjoying each other

Her heart is an apartment.
A building I know well.
Well lit, comfortably nestled in the center of her chest.
Free from rent.
The trouble of pink slips.
Delinquent notices of insecurity.
Broken promises.
Each of our memories kept safe, behind each & every door.
A winding case of stairs.
With us the occupants of every  floor.
Tiny peep holes with welcome mats beneath the door.
It's times like this when I think how big the world really is.
The countless number of steps taken.
Helping each other unpack our bags.
On the outside of each sliding door is a patio.
The stars never seemed so close.
Long uninterrupted stares.
Peering back and forth.
Our belongings all lined up.
A dresser that holds every piece of clothing.
My arms, legs.
All slid into the thought of you.
Her heart is a apartment.
A building I know well.
She loved old things.
Her heart sterdy, each piece of mail addressed with a kiss.
The only knock heard, goes without embarrassment.
We,
The tenants.
spend most of our time visiting ourselves.
Running up and down the stairs.
Moving in was the best decision I ever made

I still miss you.
Sometimes I wonder if you miss me
As much as I dream that you do.
If I am even a second thought, if you miss
Anything about me period.
I don’t think I’ve ever squeezed you as tight as I do than when I dream.
When I am sleep, everything feels real.
The feel of your skin.
The way the small of your back raises
When you breathe.
Your hair a mess, barely holding on to the pillow.
Apparently dreams are the guest house to prayers.
Missing you hurts like hell, lying awake
In angst, not being able to enjoy the moment In full.
I don’t think I’ve ever squeezed you as tight as I do than when I dream,
Your head in the cease of my arm.
I am not ready to wake up yet,
I am not ready for you to go.
Not ready for you to disappear.
When I dream,
Every word we say is silent
& your heart beats next to mine.
You snuggle up close to me &
Everything in you just releases.
Just let me sleep a while longer,
I still feel safe when you’re around
I still miss you when you’re not around

I was conscious the moment her hand touched mine.
It felt as if I was sleep waking in a beautiful dream.
I had no insight to anything before that. No remembrance of if I dreamed or not.
There was no grogginess no want to close my eyes.
I felt at peace laying there watching her stare back at me.
The simpleness of it all.
The experience of something so precious shrewd in nature
To be perfectly honest there is no place I'd rather be.
Her voice assured a deep well that cured need for thirst,
the sheer depth of a look shared from eye to eye.
I told myself it was just a dream,
But when she touched me; I refused to wake

You are thick in size
Curling around my fork
String by string.
You anchor my stomach
& kiss my lips in a slurp.
You never have to worry about
The intrusion
Curving my appetite with your
Delicious coil.
You curl yourself in front of me
And invite me to come back for more.
Fork after fork
You unravel your flavor &
Pack them in my mouth.
You're the first thing on my mind
And bowl
Tasting you before you come to a boil.
You're my noodle
Perfectly seasoned and anchored
To my soul.
The broth the last kiss
From me to you
Until the next bowl

Your voice is the perfect song to listen to on a road trip.
To view all the things that remind me of you.
Miles away from the stress of work.
Your voice, the open road.
Someone I can love, no traffic jam in sight.
The goosebumps from the air on full blast.
To feel love when no love is felt.
A broken down car with someone to help when something is wrong.
The air tastes different, miles away from the city.
A euphoric high.
Your voice a beautiful path.
My phone thrown somewhere in the backseat traveling a scenic road I've never been.
No track of time.
The thing about disease is that you never know until its too late.
It spreads. Becoming infectious.
You've become my relief, my cure.
Your voice like the breeze flowing through my hand.
Your voice the only other sound that could be heard outside of the car and the road.
I've kissed the air a thousand times over.
Driving pass my destination.
Listening to the sound of your voice.
I don't want to move from behind the steering wheel.
What's a couple hundred more miles.
You guiding me pass every exit sign.
Enjoying the ride

In enough time she disappears.
Although close she's gone.

The utterance of nothing at all, the smallest laugh to herself.


If by chance you notice the new heels.
She's gone out the door.
When you ask what's wrong, the answer will always be nothing.
Caught in a gaze.
She doesn't mind the compliments.

Knowing it doesn't go anywhere.
The random men that take outside appearance.


The new songs she's heard.
The ones you sing back to yourself not paying attention to the words.

If you know her well enough.

Deep down you know somethings wrong.

She'll never say a word.

She sways a different sway.

Each new dress moving closer to the front of the closet.
When she's gone you'll feel a bit of a sting.
Wondering where she's at, where she's been.

Most times she's to herself.
Driving around the town.
Maybe to get a drink, watch a movie to herself.
You can't tell why she's listening.
Casually finding all these new songs.
If by chance you confront.
She'll tell you she's always known them.
Laughing to herself.
If you truly knew, you wouldn't have to pretend.
It's hard for her to come back

There sits an geisha along
The shore
When will love arrive; the ocean her tears have cried
Awaiting the sound of Orr like arms to paddle through
Melancholy puddle.
Her hair shimmers ebony
Awaiting a love that crosses the sea
Her Wooden sandels no longer echo above gravel and dirt
Awaiting their sound to be replaced. Repeated over and over
Laped by the lapel of rescuing arms.
There she sits alone by the shore
Seducing the tears she has made; praying a love fair and true
The koi of her dream refuses to swim
Alone she waits by an ocean she's made

You know, it's funny how some things manifest themselves from a thought or a sudden feeling.
Like a collection of thoughts that have always known themselves but in a strange twist by invention manifest themself as that same thought or emotion.
For the last 15 minutes your picture has been the best snow globe ever invented!
Actually it's been longer than 15 minutes but the number 15 correlates to the first conversation we ever had.
Taking 15 minutes to realize somethings don't actually need a response.
It's the happening that makes it oh so special.
With every shake I see the snow fall and it sprinkles across your face just like I always pictured it would

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 the midst of talking to my friend girl.
She mentioned that she's been waking up in the middle of the night.
Cold, unable to go back to sleep.
We talked for a while longer, being our normal silly selves.
Then she asked a not so unusual question but unusual question.
She asked if she could borrow my heart, that she sought somewhere warm, comfortable.
That here lately she hasn't been able to find such a place.
Without hesitation I gave it to her. The blurred line of going through such lengths expecting the same sincerity to be returned.
Ensuring that she would at least get a good night's sleep if nothing else hoping to put her mind at ease.
We went for days, months even without so much as a single word being said.
Given the things she'd normally go through it was quite understandable.
What ever was mine I would have given until I found myself waking up later and later night after night.
My dreams no longer existent. Without realizing I found myself in the same predicament.
In search of a peace of mind.
It wasn't until she appeared out of the blue.
It put my mind at ease to see her happy, fruitful.
We talked for a while.
Laughing about everything that went on while separated from each other.
But when the topic of sleep came up I asked about my heart.
I noticed a brief hesitation.
Choosing to confess without saying too much, she gave my heart back.
Worn. No longer able to fit where it once came.
When asked what happened she turned her attention to someone else.
Seeking the same affection

Last Summer I dream't that I danced with you around the same time this year.
Alone in the park by the soles of filled shoes.
The indie sound of hearts racing in constant wonderment.
Tuning down the sound of our voices.
Our hands fitting perfectly inside one another.
The light of our eyes illuminating the sun.
Last Summer I couldn't begin to tell you how much I loved you.
Pyromaniacs in love with the Summer sun.
Falling in love with the deep circles our feet made.
Dancing alone in the park, recognizing ourselves in the reflection see through each others eyes.
The only escape that fills the massive void felt last Summer.
Listening to the sound of your voice laying down.
Feeling whole. Your hand inside if mine.
A recreation of this Summer seen last Summer.
Slowly looking up, holding on to the memories of last Summer

If a turtle could.
He would walk faster- maybe.
Find some dynamite.

She was a porcelain figurine.
Fitted with big bright angel wings.
The arches of her heel lifted high.
The weight of emotions carried tall upon her back.
In mid flight she collapsed and broke a piece of her side.
Heart broken she feared that no one would look at her the same.
Once held high, looked to, to spread a ease of mind.
The burden of others piled high upon her back.
Not once did she notice the weight of her own.
Heartbroken she tried her best to hide her ceramic scar.
Afraid of what everyone would think.
A stone tear suddenly etched beneath her eye.
She tried her best to put the pieces back together, but no matter how she arranged them they just wouldn't fit.
Her wings now a dull off white, Her arch not as high as it once was.
She hid herself where no one would ever think to look.
Over by the street in the gutter where most leaves collected themselves.
It wasn't until she met a sad clown wearing torn clothes.
A dusty old hat. Sitting along the sidewalk of where she hid herself.
A blue tear painted on his upper cheek.
Soon as he saw the porcelain figurine he fell in love.
Collecting her broken pieces along with her hand. He loved her just the way she was.
The definition of her tear changed. Never before has she experienced such kindness from hands that asked for nothing in return.
Knowing only to give never once did she take the time to receive.
She looked astonished as he brushed the dirt from her wings.
Discarding her broken pieces in his pocket, replacing them with a piece of him

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

When I first met you 
I knew you were rich.
not because of worldly possessions.

When I first met you

I fell in love with your richness,
this vast amount of wealth.
Without the arrogance that follows.

Not in compensation for my own.
Not because of how you looked.

What you could afford.

What you wore.
But in how you smiled.

In proportion to what your heart could afford.

The currency you
constantly give for nothing in return.

An abundance of smiles in the places you
could not see before you walked passed

The biggest being,
The smile you put on my face.

The currency you constantly
give for nothing in return

I chase every second spent without you.
A kiss short and brief
This being the most meaningful time
If but a moment,
Passing by.
Two arms forever lost in a memory.
The stretch of ticking needles.
Tick tock, tick tock I am back in your arms.
Tick tock, tick tock I am back chasing.
An eternity spent in your arms
Seems like a dream

If you could be anything I'd like you to be an ice cream sundae.
Layered to perfection.
A picture perfect representation of how I see you.
Extra fudge drenched from each edge of the bowl.
Scandalous, the way you'd lay.
Extra cherries sitting on top of your head.
How devilishly **** that would be.
Inviting ourselves to be selfish with no end to how many
spoonfuls we'd take of each other.
Quenching need with melted thirst.
Devoured in everlasting bliss.
The lips that long to taste every inch of you.
Until the bowl is no more

I had this tremendous fear.
The mist soon all around;
The water around capsizes.
Substance attends, a funeral of sorts.
I've never ventured this far.
Soon they return, looking back.
Fleeing wildish scream.
My former thought bold.
Such my hope.
Resurfacing the ill fated.
The thought of sinking.
Forced to roam in darkness.
Where would I place my feet.
Perplexed, nothing was the same.
Cold, unable to find comfort.
I drifted, longing to chance the size of waves.
Distant waters courteous in expectation.
I too braced for it.
Becoming motionless.
Awaiting descent.

Not all ships sink.
The voyage extended from strangers eyes.
When the wind stops and the sail settles.
Some peculiar gaze, heavily weighed in length.
The ship sinks.
But this I feel far too late.
I am at the bottom.
The bottom of her heart

Old songs are like
A prayer; no matter the length
Of time.
No matter how long or short.
They dance.
They dance regardless of who's
Around & accept your invitation
Without you knowing.
Just when you forget.
They tap you on the shoulder &
Give you something to smile about.
Old songs are like a dancehall that scream
In silence and fill the empty with hope.
Regardless of how you felt before.
Old songs are like the remedy to the old
Person in your head who finally feels the urge
to dance again

I miss ******* 
you, your lips pressed against mine
The feel of your skin

And it was one of those kind of days.
Enjoyment of the little things.
She filled both my hands.
My mind at ease,
She was very good at stuff like that.
Warm to the touch, my hands snug around her.
The way she smelled was life itself.
Flooding my nose with endless memory.
Deliciously swirled & tasted.
My insides fluttering in thought.
No longer empty but filled by anticipation.
This was the kind of weather she was made for.
Jeans, sweaters.
Lazy days to throw any old thing on and lounge around.
It was one of those kind of days she filled my mug,
My hands with hot chocolate.
Her being the very chocolate that warmed my soul

Of all things
Just because

Tell me in a whisper
Is there anything you'd like to confide.
My lips pressed against your neck
The images seen when eyes close.
My breath hot against your neck.
Almost hyperventilating at a gasp,
Tell me right there in a whisper,
The not so terrible things we can explore.
The lining of your neck,
The rapid beat of your heart.
Common ground my tongue travels.
The loss of control caused by your hands alone,
Pull me tighter
Exposing your ear to my mouth.
In a single bite
A moan travels down your ear
Until it reaches the peak of euphoria.
We've put this off for so long.
These things we try to hide.
Tell me in a whisper how we've waited for this moment.
With me pressed up against you
Your thigh wrapped against mine.
With eyes shut tight this moment we both long.
My fingers hid between skin.
Tell me the grin we both await
Broken by a kiss

& I found you
lying on the ground.
You welcomed me to your lips,
Finding early morning twinkle
in your eyes - Just before
the security lights on the house
are cut off.
Shortly before we are interrupted
by the footprints of muddy boots
& soft sole shoes finding their way
into the light.
I found you on the ground &
laid beside you,
My lips melting into yours
Just beneath the sun.
I closed my eyes and fell into you
Hiding myself deep within your reach.
No longer naive to the definition of
forever.
Promise me that you won't leave
at least until tomorrow morning.
My loving arms wrapped around you
until the sun tells me that it's time
to go

It's been so many nights
I've scrolled down my contact list
& Highlighted your name.
So many nights you've crossed
My mind and never left.
Wherever you call home
Wherever I call home.
Places I thought we'd never go
Desperate finding our way back.
You're name a direct reflection
Of the sun,
My finger an eclipse.
Unknown to the philosophers
And professors who study science.
It's been so many nights
I've scrolled down my contact list
& Your name has shone bright
Like some shooting star
Searching for something it's lost.
Knowing our history
You'd have to be there to have
Seen it.
Without first contact,
I miss you every time

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

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

To my surprise I got a call from a friend I haven't heard from in a long time,
Ecstatic, I was filled with instant delight.
Before I could say another word
she told me that she had a gift for me that in the utmost urgency I had to come get it.
A few moments later she sent a text message. One filled with the utmost emphasis of now,
When I showed up she had a sneaky grin on her face
Hands behind her back
asking if I was ready.
I couldn't help but smile replying of course.
Without warning she jumped up wrapping her arms and legs around me,
Whispering in my ear that she knows how much that I love hoodies, though it wasn't much, here was one that would never fade or tarnish .
Her face becoming an hood
Enveloping my face
occupying my hands with her back

Take me on a plane to your heart.
I want to get out & celebrate
Your hand in mine.
Time steadily ticks down, our emotions
Attentive streamers and banners
That shout welcome.
I stayed up all night like a child.
Anticipating the feel of something new,
The rush of being around you.
My fearless dream of you,
Curiously you.
Take me on a plane to your heart.
Your peace of mind, your cloud in the sky.
Somewhere that I’ve never been.
I feel so small when I am next to you,
But not in an insurmountable way.
I get a chance to see how much of a difference
That you’ve made.
Next time that you go,
Or at least consider.
Take me with you in the experience
That no one will know but you & I.
To be happy and belong to a part
Of you always & discover how many
Times I’ve looked at you and deeply
Appreciate the parts of you I am just now seeing.
How beautifully breathtaking,
No matter how big, there is still plenty
To discover & plenty of flights we could schedule.
No matter where we journey,
No matter how small.
Take me on a plane to your heart,
I only ask, that we take the scenic route

I don't consider you a friend because of how many times you cross my mind.
Nor because of the times we don't mention.
I don't consider myself in love because of the things we do to each other behind closed doors.

Open doors or in-between doors.
I consider you my equal because of the philosophy we share.
All without making a sound.

The love we have that naturally reacts with a vocal notion of it's own.
We don't have to be around each other to explore the things that aren't said.
A vocal assurance that I do indeed mean what I say.

We are both the ugliest kind of beautiful our laughs being the ice breaker
for all that we share.
The tears elapsed from laughing too hard.

No I don't consider you a friend, or a lover because of how much I'll miss you when your gone.
No I don't want to be near you just because of a single thought.

Nor because of the way you make me feel.
You'll always be with me.
Sharing our ugliest kind of beautiful

Tonight when everything goes quiet.
When you cut your tv off after
One last channel check
And the light from your phone flashes one last time before plugging it on the charger.
When your laying there lost in thought
Before finally fading off into a deep sleep.
There is a cliff that resonates between our deepest thoughts.
And on that cliff I am standing there waiting on you to fall into a deep sleep.
And grant you one of the best dreams you've had in a long time

It was hard to forget her
Especially on overcast days.
The spots we stood, eavesdropping in the clouds where she came the hardest.
The quiver sent through her spine constituting the lightening that left her paralyzed.  
She stood electrified, curious of where we would strike next.
All I wanted was to be needed.
Soaked in the rain that poured
In between sounds of thunder.
Her moan was the loudest.
In the pursuit of true happiness
I stood in her storm.
Pacing back and forth becoming the lightening rod causing her to strike.
With gusts up to about 120 mph she came without haste.
A bolt of lightening, devoured by swollen space.
As strong and as fast as she came she was fragile.
Collapsing soon as she struck.
Dissipating into the belief that she was to disappear without a trace.
Thunder pierced through the sky.
Bellowing her return.
The crackle of her moan replied, wrapping around complete space.
Resting her head for moments longer.
Changing the way she saw herself

I loved the honesty.
Netflix, chill then what.
I'd love to unfold you all night.
A reiteration of
Laying on our backs
No longer hesitant.
No longer ignorant.
Transcending the labels we both  keep inside.
Suggesting that there's more to appearance.
Standing in the chills of liberation.
We soon were caught in
Organized noise
Lost in flims of smoke
All night long.
Shall we roll another or two.
If I told you right then whose wrong,
Two separate interpretations.
Each to send tremors of truth of what's really happened.
Netflix waits in response
Mahogany fingertips.
Intellectual stimulation.
**** I forgot errythang I was supposed to be doing.
I concur wholeheartedly with this unexpected attraction.
The television a distraction.
Current circumstances.
Thinking about you
Open invitation

It's hard sometimes you know,
Savoring something sweet.
You just don't want it to disappear as it's a shortage on delectable things.
So many things lose their flavor after a while and its like **** not again.
I mean the memory is always there but every now and then you just want that good mouth feel, like **** that was good.
Okay maybe that was just lazy.
But seriously having to go through the hassle of taking apart a wrapper
Time and time again.
Having to remove this or that.
Come on let's get to the good part already.
The ****** of flavor exploding into your mouth.
That private moment you can just be yourself anytime or any place.
The Ecstasy of it all.
The peace found after destroying something so beautiful.
At some point we're all savage. Face it.
The moment of build up, the anticipation of waiting for the very moment you finally get your hands on what you crave.
That one voice in the back of your head that pretends to act calmly.
That one voice arguing in the background saying do that ****. What's calm about what your doing.
Hell it's all one in the same.
But only the saint's whom attend Church every so often are the only ones
whom deny such a carnal desire when everyone is around.
Hahaha The Devil is something else ain't he

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

My attraction towards her was fatal.
For the realest things to come from her lips affected me in more ways than one.
You see truth speaks volume.
And the beauty that comes from her lips was more than I anticipated.

Feeling my attraction begin to rise.
I attempted to switch the subject.

Finding that we both shared the same amount of pain.
Adding value to each subject that rose.


I began to feel that there was more for me.
My self consciousness reacting before I could gather myself completely.

I felt a sense of liberation.
No longer the day I had at work, what I was planning to eat on the way home.

More instead how every other thought included her.
The respect held eye to eye.
The avenues of how her day went, the ins and outs.

The evidence that I found what I was missing.
And I didn't understand one bit.

 

I suppose it's better that way.
Stepping outside of myself into the crossway leading off into the street.
A dark backdrop highlighted by a white light of a bald man walking before it turns
A reddish orange.
Though nothing is as harmless as it seems.
I felt at ease staring into her eyes.

 

Stepping inside of her mind was like walking into an art gallery.
Her interests, technological advances all highlighted in bright and violet hue.
All in the span of 10 minutes walking in.
Mutually we both spoke with our hands.
We'd throw fits with our laughs, indulging in the philosophy of smile.

 

With morality aroused I instantly began questioning myself.
Wanting to know more I asked question, after question.
Anything as a means to have kept her talking. Feeling an everlasting peace.
Walking downtown in an abundance of space, I felt I could breathe.

But I couldn't shake that she felt that I was like most guys.
That at any moment, as comfortable as she was, she was still waiting on me
to give any indication that I was no different than the faces pointed down scrolling down their phone.

 

And we,
Like separate thumbs.
Belonged to different people
Trouble

She sat on the shelf
Admiring the other dolls,
She'd been there for some time.
Watching the other dolls come & go.
The only one not wrapped in plastic.
She thought her self ugly
The other dolls never staying long.
The kids & their parents quickly by passing her.
Grabbing the dolls wrapped in box & plastic.
Although very beautiful she'd sit and contemplate the worst.
Watching the other dolls come & go.
The little black doll not wrapped in plastic.
She grew resentment.
Finding the only difference was in how she was made.
Her brown skin, her black hair.
She so longed to be taken to a loving home.
She didn't come with any accessories.
The vanity that came with the other dolls.
Her smile printed across her face.
Over time it became hard for that smile to stay.
Often crying when the lights turned off and the store closed.
She wanted a home just like the other dolls.
Quickly picked up,
Hurried over to the register.
She longed to be like all the other dolls.
Watching them all come and go.
Their hair tied behind their head.
All the make up and accessories sealed in their package.
It wasn't until one of the other dolls was returned.
Damaged.
Half stuffed into the package.
When she spoke to the other doll,
She discovered that not all homes are what you think.
Seeing how rough she was played with.
The rough marks across her face, her hair no longer tied in the package ponytail.
It wasn't until then that she realized that the best things come with time.
Finding the best home in herself
Beautiful black doll
Taken home to meet the girl she'd be with forever

Maybe tomorrow
I'll admit that I was joking.
Comparatively walking forward.
Pretending I saw what I couldn't.
The rustling of leaves,
Allocation to how far the fall.
The optimism of smiles.
After all, I've know this whole time.
When & where.
Deliberately stealing glances.
The second, third, forth
Consciously known that you'd find me sooner or later.
My role through the renewal of perspective.
Maybe tomorrow you'll forget &
I'll joking walk up to you.
Smile and say "Tag, your it!"
Knowing that you've been it this whole time.
The rustle of leaves growing louder.
Having known that I revealed myself without a word

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

And if such a time comes.
I ask for courage anew, happier eyes.
To delve into sweet slumber without sigh.
Time neither passes or retracts.


And in addition I find the least bit bearable.
Unable to drown in total sleep.
The sights seen precious.
I forget where I place my head.


And I hold no grievance against thee.
Heavily affectioned to many a sight.
My eyes swallowed whole,
At happiness's interpretation.


Whilst I not forget, Sandman,
I dream with open eyes

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

Her heart was like an Hershey's kiss
It's been quite a while since I've had a craving for such,
It's actually been quite a while since I've had one come to think of it.
I mean literally there are so many things that go on throughout the day
to actually sit down and realize hey the only thing missing right now is a bit of chocolate.
Unbecoming I was caught red handed. Attempting to take the last one out the bag.
It's not like I was a heathen or anything, giving the impression that I was to tear the paper off
shred by shred leaving her with nothing but the wrapper.
I would have shared in the manifestation of that one small thing becoming something greater.
She had something to be desired
She had something that I desired, something offered that I've never quite had
before.
Mouth watering in thought.
She presented a noteworthy question, one til this day I think we both know the answer to.
Only fitting after being overlooked so many times that it came natural
Giving pieces of herself wrapped up in this fancy tin foil only to be used.
Quite understable,
But she didn't understand this incredible urge that had to be filled

When you look at me
I can't help but think, how much
I want to bite you