Under the thick of loves thumb
I found a boxing glove
Short of that I found a bruise
Trying it on, following an angular shadow
The blues of chewing with a bruised jaw
Two left feet
Taking a seat rubbing my brow
Her how didn't add up to the purpose,
Another shadow appearing
brow now endowed with a pulsating throb
The blues of chewing with a bruised jaw
The pain of loves boxing glove

She fed my soul with the
Kindest of hands.
Revealing a hunger I didn't know.
I ate from her hands,
Knowing the pieces that she gave
Were near & dear.
I ate expecting her to stop.
Seeing past her body,
These beautiful hands.
I'd wave my hand to stop
But instead she smiled and continue to give more.
She gave pieces of her soul.
Her hands like spoons,
Blowing the pieces that were too hot.
Easing them into my mouth.
Her hands like home
The heartbeat I knew with in.
Warm, comforting.

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

She showed me that being strong willed was hardly enough in the midst of her disaster, I've watched buildings falter beneath her steps only for her to then smile like nothings happened

I loved the way she felt.
Wearing her like a shirt.
Soft and snug.
I wrapped her arms around me, safeguarding her just as shes safeguarded me.
Her essence following me everywhere I went.
She was the perfect size.
The way she wrapped around me.
I buttoned her up, feeling the caress of her back.
The deep dimple that ensued.
Covering me with all of her.
I blushed at the warmth she provided.
When the time came, I hated to have to take her off.
The fear of washing away the stain of memories we have created.

What we have together is complicated.
It very well may be toxic.
But I am glad it happened.
I ask if you love me.
The physical representation of thirst.
You curve my appetite in so many ways.
I am full in knowing that you complete me.
Such a sensual smell.
My mouth burnt by the hot.
My taste buds go insane each time you are near.
Watering at the mouth.
I've eaten too much but know you fulfill my every need.
I often picture a life together with you.
Seasonal aroma, stirred and mixed.
Following your lead.
We grow older.
At times you upset my stomach.
I regret the decision of going to find you.
But this is the same reason I am drawn towards you.
Licking the corners on my mouth.
You fill what hunger I have and I love it.
Because I love you.
We may have our spats but that's anyone that confuses misunderstanding.
I am sincere in the way I am reminded.
Yet selfish in the way I am spoiled.
I love you because you always commit with purpose.
One spoon at a time.
To wake up and have you here with me.
I wouldn't trade anything for it.
To wake up and have you beside me, 
To wake up and ask is that Shrimp Fried Rice on your breath

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

This feeling only exists when I am with her.
This vibrant, pixelated world.
Filled with her attention.
When I am with her
I am lost for hours on in, exploring every inch of her.
My favorite escape, determined to prove myself.
Alone in a world filled with her,
I've fallen in love with every click of the button rapidly pressed.
If any of the cords should come undone,
I'll loose my mind.
Her heart ever so elusive.
Scrolling screen after screen
Yet I continue to scroll.
Lost in the only feeling that exists when she's around.
Unraveling my controller, plugging it into her heart

She took me sight seeing
The city of her heart-
My hand clinched tight in hers.
A celebration of eyes held tight.
Our smiles bright,
Navigating the twist & turns of the street.
Champagne & beige buildings.
The wind snapping between our faces.
It was beautiful
Seeing colors and shapes this way.
A moment filled with pedestrian eyes.
Our steps the very throb of the city.
Of all the streets
There was one rough patch.
Of all the buildings, all the pretty lights.
This one rough patch in the center of the street was my favorite.
Though she hated it.
It was my favorite part.
To be honest I don't know what or why I was drawn to it.
To me it just felt real.
Night or day
It reminded me of home

The letters I never sent still sit and collect dust.
An novels worth of thoughts filled with you.
The time taken, conveying something not so easily read aloud.
If by the time I do send these letters your thought will still be present.
Sealed with the accordance that I imagined your lips before licking and sealing it shut.
Of course not every letter is of a serious tone.
There has to be some silliness somewhere.
Smiles scribbled to and from the end of the flap.
Letters nicely tucked, a hint of cologne still lingering about.
Words floating from one page to the next.
Hoping you see my face in every line in the letters I never sent.
Simplifying the significance of how much I thought of you.
Facing a blank sheet of paper soon to be filled.
Attempting a million and one ways to confess all the unique and special
things that make you, well.
You.
No one is you.
Remember that, as by the end of this letter I'll imagine placing my lips against your forehead.
That's enough for me.
As the letters I've never sent will soon become a novel devoted to the many times I've sat and thought of you

And like my favorite song
You've been on my mind since I heard you.
Escalating into the next time I hear you.
Out of the blue into my life.
The rumble of thunder.
A silent lightening.
The way you strike.
That word like food with fondest memory.
Too soon.
Defenseless to sudden strike.
Everything around shook in heavy appetite.
The way you've come in my life.
Flashing.
Revisiting everywhere you've been.
Until I see you again.
Flashing into my life
Sharp and silent.
In unending storm

The gospel of us starts where you begin and the night is no longer blind
Finding it's way to light
Lending our lips to the horizon
There is nothing slanderous about such union
An ***** that follows a choir of voices
The amount of steps before kneeling in complete submission
The morale of breathing you with every breath
The grief of if you ever thought of me
As I've thought of you
Kneeling in the comfort you provide.
A complete submission
Feeding myself from the very well your thought begins
Meeting again in the realm of the stars
The clasp of hands dedicated to love
The outline of each stare enclosed in the constellation of a blink
An eclipse of your head overlapping my chest,
Should I ever be condemned for such assumption
Made in each others image
Meeting you in such a way
Caring to heal myself for the betterment of you
The lullaby of your heart
A nursery to joyous ears
Falling deep into prayer
Leaning ourselves to each other's hand
Remedy to the sick child inside us
Selfish
Throwing tantrum
Selfish
Reverting back to singular praise
Kicking, screaming
Caution thrown to the wind
Still optimistic in faith
That no matter how childish we act
It is that sick child that will save us both
Balance
The Renaissance of something so simple

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

Most things you read are dedicated  
To the bride or wife to be,  
With everyone and everything
else included,  
But I wanted to do something different.  
After all, you're a part of this too.  

To my almost sister-in-law,  
How fun it would have been  
To see you and your sister  
In the dresses you've always dreamed of wearing, all of us side by side.
Feeding a child, a continuation of
Building the life of your dreams.  
Not to say that you won’t,  
I just won’t be included in the affair.  
That’s fine, just know I think of you both.  

If I had my way,  
I’d marry your sister and have you  
As my sister too.
Someone strong, someone real.  
If not for you,  
I wouldn’t have these fond memories  
Of you and your sister,  
Starting at the first night
Where you called my name  
And thought I was nice enough  
To introduce us, me and your sister.

We’ve always agreed on things,  
Not seeing things like most do,  
The same old, same old.  
If you’re somewhere,  
Just taking up space,  
Know this is for you  
And all the future sisters-in-law.  
Not to steal the shine  
From the bride to be,  
But imagining her at the altar,  
With you at her side as maid of honor,  
Would've been dope to see.  

If you see this,  
You both are still part of my life,  
And I, hopefully, a part of yours.  
I sit idle,  
Taking up space,  
Thinking of you both,  
Writing something for sisters  
And soon to be sister in laws
To read as a toast,  
Then smile at the bride.
If they can't think of something
silly to say.
If by chance you come across this
And that is the case.
Here is something to toast to

I want a love of that seen on
TV shows and romantic comedies
Without the overdrawn scripts
Or interruption of subliminal commercials that go on and on
A love filled with the visit of random outburst
An award winning Assemble
Which displays overcoming harsh realities
Crazed neighbors that have no idea when to go home
barging in making themselves at home.
Morals and manner
The latter of spontaneity without control of volition
The latest trend of comebacks played prime time Every Thursday
Late night reruns that bring a smile to your face
Not just when there's nothing else on TV
I want a love of that seen on
TV shows and romantic comedies
Without the anxiety of overdrawn scripts

An emotional attachment premiered during every episode

The ego that accompanies relationships 

The ups and downs
Beautifully understanding,

Introducing ourselves to a deeper notion 
The beautiful curvature your mouth makes during improvised motion.
Typically I never found myself that goofy
Except when it's was funny

Identifying with whats felt inside
The serious situations that occur and end all in the same hour,
A simple template in the whelm of a moment

Cast with the kiss of the rolling credits
Best understood by the various themes played at the beginning and end,
Eliminating the distance of alone time spent while the cameras are off

In the question of reassurance.
The single solemn response cannot always end with one that causes
the most anxiety.
The involvement of social media, random dm's, the arrangement of severed ties mended with one thing in mind.
For these reasons insecurity deepens.
Eventually things fall apart.
It's not always about opening your mouth.
There are other ways to be vocal.
Silence becomes deafening.
Defeating the purpose of awareness.
Tempers quickly raise and often the things that aren't meant to be said come out.
Echoing the loudest.
Petty arguments, the excuses that lead us into the messages we're quick to hide.
Despite how much time we've invested, the easiest thing to do is walk away.
Anxiety becoming the fear that pushes us the furthest into ourselves.
It's not always easy.
Opening up,
vocalizing a single woe that begins the journey of a thousand,
if not more.
If forced, we too begin to shut down and contemplate the single best thing.
Being seen as selfish, self-centered.
Quick burst that justifies wrongful intent with one that's right.
It's all about support.
Care & understanding.
The saving grace that bonds the realization that either of us are perfect.
That there are deeper issues at hand that seep far beyond. 
the way we see ourselves, whether we are too big.
Too small, the things we find often too late, said behind our back.

outside of everything else do you truly understand the quality of reassurance.

the equivalent to the moment everything seems to come crashing down.

The times any slight movement brings us down the most.

Equally we both seek the same.

The response reflects the moment.
To defy standard and move to something meaningful.
At a point, the question deserves an answer.

Going in one ear, quickly coming out the other.

To vocalize seemingly in one direction unless the role is reversed

She gave him life in the whim of passion.
Drawing lines of pleasure. All of her pain that she's felt over the years.
The very existence of all she's ever dreamed.
All in the hopes that he'd never do the same.
He and he alone would stand the test of time.
The portrayal of locking eyes, deep shades of gray.
Drawn and retraced.
A homesickness suffered from the gift of tender eyes.
She remembers the nights the rain wouldn't cease.
The creases her face made in grief.

In the end. All she had was the sketch pad that never left her side.
He alone took each tear and rested his head beside them.

Her sketch pad.

This vigorous sketch that stared off into the distance.
She screamed of warning to the oncoming flood.
The beads of blue that traced every drop of rain.
Blending bright and dark hues to the paper of her pad.
Wool combs of hair colored in, blending into the background.
She thought long and hard.
First filling his hands with roses then taking them away.

Deep marks left behind from a couple of flicks of her wrist.
An eroding eraser.
The blossoming of a new sketch, a tremble of thought.
The rain came back even harder.
More fierce the next sketch she made.
Paved and coated over and over again.
A fear that she would never become the recipient of all she's dreamed.
Someone that would love her for all that she keeps hidden.
She reacted to the woes of thunder and lightning.
A tear made deep then covered.
Resistant to all shes felt.
A deep pain struck against the burrow of her heart.
Every flower in the valley of her screamed in anguish to the water that continuously fell.
The valley becoming a gutter in front of the driveway she drew.
Blue and gray hues crosshatched across the page.
Surrounding him in the background.
Here he stood outside in the rain for hours in front of an empty house.
His heart replacing the roses that filled his hands.
Within the confines of her sketch pad she illustrated her best friend.
The best friend she's ever known.
Someone that she could trust.
Made her feel whole.
Here within the confines of her sketch pad.
she illustrated how he made her feel.
She drew breath into his lungs in true fear.
Knowing that somethings aren't meant to happen.
Of all things that she loved. She loved herself the most.
Promising that she would never feel this hurt again.
The torment of having something precious ripped away.
A homesickness suffered from the gift of tender eyes.
She remembers the nights the rain wouldn't cease.
The creases her face made in grief.
It was that night she made the promise never again.
She drew her best friend in a world.
Cold and alone.
All within the confines of her sketch pad.
Where she felt she could be herself.
Illustrating the exact way he made her feel

Particularly the application of beauty fades,
Unless applied skin deep.
Products brought in vain.
A practice that follows as is.
A thoughtful perception of truth.
A light that shines each time she smiles

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

I am in love with the infinite space that you provide.
The calm found after each second anxiety ceases to exist,  revealing that all will be fine.
An invisible duct of constant wonder.
You never cease to amaze me.
Your unpredictablely shy.
First appearing, then disappearing.  Mere clouds following the sound of your voice.
Revealing more and more about yourself, not knowing where to end.
I love that about you.
The fountain of youth found in the dimple of your smile.
Forever found in the throb of my heart.
Tucking me into a blanket of complete comfort.
Leaving everything out in the open the loose strings and fabric.
Tucking me in, never minding the weather.
Dividing your goodnight kiss across my head.

You are my sky and with you I plan to do nothing but fall.

What I am trying to say is that
Everything else can wait.
Give beauty a chance to flourish,
A budding seed split between you and I,
Planted still in undeniable
truth.
Watching your eyes wake after a deep sleep;
Laying beside you watching your chest rise then slowly lower
Exchanging your breath for mine. Comprising who we once were, into two totally different people we never knew existed.
Pieces of me given to you and vice versa, the transfer of beating hearts echoing through still sheets.
Lifted through the self conscious thought of being aware,
This enticing sensation of
laying beside each other, hands entwined against the thought of being fulfilled. Though awake,
Bodies lay in rest, searching for one another, this fear of being lost. The constant Roaming in our sleep,the patting of empty spaces beside us.
A subspace that ventures forth as dreaming in parallel.
The inevitable change of being next to someone you truly love.
Realizing that there is something much bigger than yourself.
The world starts to fade, each revolution diminishes a bit.
No longer caring to be seen.
Slowly starting to figure that I am not as selfish as I thought.
Placing myself within your reach,
Looking to feel your hand reach for me.
Realizing that
Everything outside of this perfect moment between you and I can wait.

I try to make you laugh as much as I can.
Still you sleep.
I have trouble dozing off.
To catch the part of my dream you laugh the hardest.
Soon as I am out good.
I wake right back up.
Aware that there is no such sleep.
Still I try

Growth takes time.
Not every seed takes off running.
Every now & then
Even seeds can trip over their shoes.
It makes the difference when you
Can take the time to stop & notice
As well as continue to walk
Until falling face first.
I've never known a man to die from
Tripping over their shoes.
But I've known men to improvise
Until they learned to tie their shoes
However,
I've also known men to tie knots in their shoes
and still can't get them loose
No matter how hard they try

At that moment fingers rushed in an ooze of excitement,
A lake confronted in foam.
The smell of you cleansing everything it touches.
Could you image that,
Placing you in a bottle dispensing you little by little.
A thick lather filling the gasps of fingers.
How could you make a simple shampoo smell that much better.
How is that possible, I mean who on earth does that.
The slogan itself would be perfect
I mean Absolute genius
It would simply read
You
Possibly a picture of a deranged bunny on the front of the label.
A fluff for hair, One eye caught in mid blink.
Chipmunk like jaws.
The essence itself would be breathtaking.
I could see it now.
Placing you on the cosmetic isle in a bunny shaped bottle.
There is only one problem however,
How could we begin to bottle up something so precious

On the day I met you
I woke up to find it a dream
I saved all the best parts
Revealing that I still felt empty.
I was truly convinced without a shadow of a doubt
The silence of a single moment
Forever captured
Forever changed
Perhaps a slip of the unconscious tongue
The realization that there is no you
Force feeding habit
The weakness that ends after each hello
Pretending not to see reality for what it really is
For what purpose
The hug of dreams
Resonating what open eyes cannot see
Were you ever afraid
The surprise of disappointment
I fought to keep my eyes closed
Only for them to open

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

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

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

The forecast projected snow and immediately I thought of her,
Not necessarily in a way that a blanket provides warmth, although she is quite warm and that would be the perfect reason to stay in come to think about it.
Upon hearing the forecast, I thought of her in the most spontaneous way that snow falls.
Giving all of itself asking for nothing in return.
That in a world of premeditated notion, she is one of the only things
that falls freely.
Giving a glimpse of how beautiful she truly is.
Sprinkling bits of herself in a way not thought possible.
Without care to where and when she falls, she was a free spirit.
Leaving a piece of herself everywhere she stepped.
Her powdered steps turning slick, a quick glimpse of how silly she is.
That slip and fall that makes you resent the ice.
Last Winter I slipped constantly, finding myself falling deeper each and every time she fell.
Maybe it was the thrill, knowing that she was there to catch me.
All is fair in love and war, but the touch of cold hands after taking forever to get warm is never fun.
Probably best I buy her a blanket this Christmas

She opened my mouth
And began to throw all of her
***** things inside.
The collar of her shirt laced
With a smirk.
She filled my mouth with soap
The seat of her jeans between my teeth.
Normally she'd walk away
But today
She sat on top of me
My insides swished around & around
Thumping & bumbling around.
She closed my mouth and sat on my face.
A collection of all her ***** things
Coming clean
Including I,
Without need for a change dispenser

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

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

Of all 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.
These devilish things, socks.
Sometimes they create more problems than they are worth.
Coming apart at the seams,
Getting caught between your toes.
The hassle of constantly having to stop and readjust your shoe when no one is looking.
They come in all sorts of color and sizes, these crazy things called socks.

Sometimes that one size fits all is just a lie.
In time all things wear.
Just don't be foolish enough not to enjoy the comfort of the simplest of things.
This at all isn't important during the height of the day.

But the thought is necessary as it conveys comfort.

A necessity that goes unnoticed unless you've had any of these problems.

Belts on the other hand can be a different hassle. Not fitting tight enough.

The leather hole wearing thin often tearing.

Sometimes these dang things prove more trouble than they are worth. Stupid things.

But out of everything that I've said one thing couldn't be truer.
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

Bottled sounds seep; escape.
Our noise mimics semi trucks.
All in fluid motion

There I was.
Loitering in the lobby of her heart, after a long flight the only thing on my mind was rest.
The aroma was nice, stepping in through the double doors.
Following the stretch of carpet to the front desk.
Air conditioner stationed right above the door soon as you walked in.
Almost feeling myself sink into the splash of a fresh comforter.
I stood at the front counter waiting to be checked in.
Didn't quite feel like home.
The longer I waited the more anxious I became.
Messing around with the pen chained to the desk.
Making circles and snake like motions with the chain.
Noticing the dust under one of those small relaxation fountains at the closest end of the receptionist's desk.
The hum growing louder signifying that the water needed to be refilled.
More interesting.
There were no vacancies.
Good that I made reservations a month before time.
Noticing the aquarium over by the elevator.
There I stood loitering in the lobby.
Patiently waiting.
After a while, it sinks in that all lobbies are the same.
An endless void of waiting.
Was it absurd that I envied the fish watching me from the aquarium.
It's a strong possibility that he fell asleep watching me wait as the receptionist hasn't quite made it back yet

Since I saw you,
I've had this hope live in me.
That everything that isn't needed be gone.
The details of sales papers, shopping carts.
The ease of temptation.
Standing still.
To fill my cart full of things I don't need.
Coffee rings, free samples.
The debris of reality.
Strings and paper slings around baked goods.
Shopping around facedown.
Pushing the cart row after row.
The things on sale.
The pings of the register.
Splints that aren't necessarily the object we've come face to face with.
Jamaican ***.
Our fingerprints used in vain
The residue from coffee pots and things we've touched.
Bottled, sealed tight.
Fresh water springs.
Still we pursue.
I pursue.
Your carefree sensibility.
I've walked every row in search.
Where have you gone,
Withdrawn

I flung my arms open
In a dream.
I hoped to feel you, knowing
A place warm and welcoming.
A place I haven't been in so long.
I flung my arms open to a place That I've missed, that I haven't been in so long.
A knock perfectly placed on your heart.
I've missed you so much,
Remembering the last time we spoke.
The last time we kissed.
Our lips patient in between knocks.
Our feet tap in anticipation.
My fingers in such rush to grab you.
In relief to how I've missed you being in front of me.
Seeing your smile for the first time in so long.
Your face a breath of fresh air.
And this,
The warmth of your skin.
Your caress snug against my skin,
The best dream I've had in so long

And like some old building I,
came crumbling down.

 

I drowned in the rubble of dust and smoke.
I felt my lungs collapse. Gasping for breath.

 

I, felt brand new aches I couldn't imagine.
Looking down I fell to a slant.

 

This wasn't a cry for attention or a plea of desperation.
My knees folded past my stomach.


I coughed my lungs out in a puff of smoke.
My allergies reacted in a way that I've never seen before.

 

Like some old building I,
came crumbling down.

 

Without hope of resuscitation I collapsed.
A cloud of smoke funneling it's way down my throat.

 

A dry cough and a gag.

I ached in ultimate agony.

 

All in attempt to avoid falling on top the bakery beside me.

Her smile, her scent.
Stealing all of my breath

Let's make some time.
Time for you and I to leap past
Anything other than  transcendent.
A vacation other than what we see day in and day out.
To lick our lips in awe.
Awe of how many times we've passed each other.
Never thinking the sun to shine as beautiful as it has against your eye.
Our lips water in infatuation.
A substitution to the emptiness we walk pass on a daily basis.
Stepping outside of the ordinary.
A fluid motion
Laughing at random moments.
The thing's kept in our heads brought to life in a smile.
Status quo of moving pass sitting still.
Seeing you with new eyes,
Shapes & colors.
An intersection of skin travelled by happy eyes.
Open, full.
The sensation of going somewhere new.
The butterflies no longer sit at the stop sign.
Checking both ways before pulling out.
Moving beyond the end of the street
Without the feeling that something is missing.
When you get the chance,
Let's make some time for you and I.
With no intent on arriving,
Whatever destination we set.
Let's make time just to make time

The chef holds the knife in the air for a brief second,
Then brings it down, slicing through the food.
We feel the heat from the grill splash our face,
a mix of grease sizzles from the flames.
This wasn’t a bad place to get out of the house.
I’m glad that we chose to come here.

Not being funny when I say this,
but there’s something about the way you eat.
Hunger is hunger, but you’re pretty
the way you hold your fork to your mouth,
the way your cheeks move up and down.

If the conspiracy theorists are right
and the world ends in the next few minutes,
you’ll have savored the last taste of my air,
the last taste of this place,
the last taste of this neighborhood.

If I were to tell you how I feel in this moment,
you’d swear I was trying to talk about you.
But it’s more than that.
I love the way your eyes are satisfied with what’s in front of you
and how soft they become.

The chef chops and sizzles the rice, onions, shrimp, and steak.
The oil and sauces bubble up on the grill,
mixing into the smoke, the grill hissing,
watching us feed ourselves one bite at a time.

Public decency is a thing,
though a kiss is the only thing I must settle for.
I want to rise from you like the steam rises from the grill,
the salt of your skin melting on my tongue
as soon as it touches.

It’s comforting watching you eat,
the way the sauce that marinated the shrimp
smears against your lips,
the way you lick it off
like nothing’s happened.

The chef throws more food on the grill
and clangs his spatula.
We’re far from full,
and I’m glad that of all places,
we decided to come here.

The air is filled with savory smells,
and still, I smell your perfume.
I catch you staring at me,
but it’s not just any stare
I love it, the way you look at me.

Whatever piece of you still hungers
bites off pieces of me every time you blink.
To think of your stomach as my final resting place,
your lips drenched in soy sauce.
If you could devour me whole, I bet that you would.

After all, our feelings,
this way we feel about each other,
are as raw as the meat and veggies
the hibachi chef throws on the grill,
and the way you smile,
and the way you wiggle and dance in your seat.

I want to be one of the things that satisfies you like that
the way you smile, the way you look at me,
making me feel just that.
Not just exposed,
but taming your hunger in complete satisfaction.

My heart beats and clangs
like the spatula in front of us.
There’s no sense in hiding what we feel,
soon the hunger will become too much.
The smoke from the grill intensifies this feeling tenfold.

Regardless of the lights, the other couples,
the rice or the steak,
you're not food.
No matter how bad I want to wrap my lips around you.
When the check comes, there’s no point in looking at it with question.
We’re both satisfied

Sometimes when I think of you.
I think about your smile. The way you talk.
I am forever thinking about your laugh.
Sometimes I think about what you'd be like as a butterfly.
Fluttering about in your thoughts.
Nothing to hold you back from where you wonder next.
It's always at the strangest.
Most simplistic time that you appear and spread your joy.
As soon as your seen you disappear again.
Wandering about as free as you came.
Sometimes I wish I had your courage.
The strength to wander about as softly and freely as you do.
I admit, before I met you the thought of a butterfly laughing never crossed my mind.
The part of yourself that voluntarily gives without worry.
Bumping into the funniest of things.
Often times not knowing it's own perception of depth.
Sometimes I wonder where do you go when you miss someone so much.
If that reoccurring feeling ever leaves or does it continue to get stronger.
Finding a place to sit and wonder.
If you'll ever land on my shoulder once more

Sometimes when I close my eyes
I see slight ripples.
Sometimes grain.
I sometimes wonder how most people see the world.
Bright colors.
If everything is as clear as it appears.
I assume it's normal. To wonder if things are there or not.
The static that appears before my eyes.
A desire held within.
The static compensating the reality of how things are.
A visual interpretation of what I miss most.
Nothing ever solid.
A face appearing between the grain.
I can never read her expression.
Dissipating seconds after I open my eyes.
Mounds & mounds of snow.
Sometimes I wonder.
If you ever see the same snow that I see

It's complicated
Pretty ugly jumbo shrimp
All hunched up like blah

There is a bird inside of my chest along with a violet.
I don't know how it got there but for some reason it won't leave.
I am constantly woke up by singing and random pecks.
At first it was nerve wrecking.
The flutter of tiny wings scrapping the inside of my heart.
I opened my heart by some chance wondering if it would fly away.
It look at the door and pulled the door back shut with it's beak.
Nestling itself back inside the violet.
I would go to the doctor but the first thing they would ask is if I've been drinking.
By some natural instinct it would a yes that comes out of my mouth.
A bird of a different color I suppose.
Memorizing her song in my heart.
I tried to peek inside and see exactly what she was doing.
But she just filled the cracks up with feathers.
I've tried not to grow too attached as the moment I do that is the exact moment that she would leave.
In doing so, I've grown very attached.
The violet now in full bloom.
To my surprise she hasn't left.
I wouldn't have it any other way

Then there was her; then there was I.
Intangible to loves mystery, running away in thought.
Helpless; I want you to love me.
Your eyes lost forevermore in mine; forever awake in the blink of an eye.
The wells of your eyes drenched in mine.
Cast deep, a bucket tied to a rope.
Overfilled in the cusp of your heart.
In that instance I become selfish.
In the next I become shy; finding the words to tell you how much I love you.
At the expense of hanging on the other end of the rope.
The complexity of something so simple.
Its funny how I am obsessed with the thought of you.
Constantly turning the wheel
Yearning to taste your heart in everlasting bliss.
It comes natural.
To want you to love me.
Then there was her; then there was I.
Then my eyes sought; then they found

Sometimes when it's late.
I turn over and want to call you.
I never do.
Believing that it's best I let you rest.
In reality I need to hear your voice so I too
Can nod off into a decent sleep.
Otherwise I am tossing and turning thinking of you.
It doesn't have to stop there.
This late night call.
Ignoring the middle of the day.
Longing to hear you melt.
Even if you can't talk.
To tell you that I've found a place that I want to stay.
And that I hope you have too.
To wish you a good night.
The best kind of therapy.
A call that leads to spreading the night in your arms.
Finding the sun at night.
To tell you I love you before dozing off.

Without knowing, my heart beseeched my eyes.
I'd fallen in love; My heart leaving my chest to find a home
against the throb of hers.
The many pieces vibrant in hue,
The jitters of learning how to walk, to bask in the same air
someone you care about breathes in.
My heart had left me behind to indulge in the lips of hers. Big stupid grin imprinted under huge eyes.
Contents, poured out of the package into open hands.
It stumbled as it walked; My heart made of jelly like substance.
Upon where her heart would be there was nothing there,
An cliff with an note attached.
Upon reading her heart shortly appeared.
Grinning with much delight.
Before my heart could spew its affection, her heart pushed mine off the cliff.
Note fluttering in the wind.
Sweet, then bitterly sour.
The throb of her heart

Before words were ever written
There were words.
Words that some what equate visibility.
This transparent line spoke 
Before my eyes found the cover of your face.
With this burning desire to speak
I dotted my tongue with ink &
Began writing along the page of your thighs,
Placing the period of my lips above your navel.
Before words were ever written
There were words,
How ever silent
I dotted my tongue in your ink &
scribbled the blank page in my affection.
Between the space of words, I hear you moan
With this burning desire to speak
I dotted my tongue in your ink &
Began writing along the page of your thighs
Without restriction

You sting my tongue,
steam rising fresh from your bed
heavy in all the right ways.
You're not that hard to make,
yet I am too tired to cook.

You sit in my belly,
the way you taste still swirling around my mouth.
No matter how much you satisfy,
there is always room for you.
Your eyes, red and spicy,
the slow burn of how you spread
through my body.

Yet, I'm still too tired to cook.
I don’t want to over-season you,
the reality of part of you
becoming burnt edges on a ***.
I don’t want to waste a single inch of you,
nor the space that you fill.

I want all of you inside of me,
even if part of you is burnt

This isn't a love that can be
Put on speaker phone.
We're far too silly for that.
Easily saying the first thing that
Comes to mind.
One moment to the next,
Stunned slience.
Phone etiquette thrown out the window.
This isn't a love that can be sat down.
Kept between an ear and a shoulder.
The amount of time it takes for someone to leave the room.
Conducted in civil manner.
Attempting not to shout,
Completely losing train of thought.
Not sure of validation,
Our voices raise a bit.
By now you should know we shouldn't have to limit ourselves like that.
Denying a freedom that connects us to whom we truly are.
Our quirks, general weirdness.
The crazy looks from those around.
The laughs that get funnier each moment that passes.
By now you should know that we are the complete definition of crazy.
Often appearing in person,
Before one of us can hang up.
Laughing hysterically,
Continuing the conversation
At any given time or place.
This definately isn't a love that
Can be placed on speaker phone
If we have to applogize for what we say.
Afraid to be who we really are.
Isolated from who we truly are