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

I find it hilarious, being arrested in thought.
The emergence of being free.
Voluntarily considering the thought of worry.
Without need for appetite, things broken down given in ration.
This apparatus that things are well and dandy but in reality they are not.
This uncomfortable silence in a lack of distraction.
Not at all considering you an hindrance.
But there looms a sudden fear.
This compulsive habit that leads to addiction.
Standing still, blank look.
Charges brought forth in misdemeanor.
Lost in one paper stack or another.
Worried of this never ending cycle of what to do, what to think.
Devoted to this vivid image I have of you stuck in my head.
Yet, I don't know a single thing about you.
A force of habit, experiencing a part of myself that I've never quite experienced.
This need to run away from myself
And escape further into you.
The lock and key of this caged feeling.
Completely gone.
That one crack in the wall that reveals the smallest spec of sun merely peeking through.
Depending on someone else to unlock that bolted door. A sound not easily forgotten.
This senseless control that cages us up, delegated in authority without act of trust.
I find it hilarious because we are lost in identity.
you've released me yet, you have no idea who I am.
That one spec of sun that crept through a crack in the wall.
By traditional standard this is quite absurd.
Revealing to a beautiful stranger that she was in fact, the total embodiment of what's retained in the Stonehenge,  
Knowledge.

She covered me in paint.
Filling me with her outlook.
Standing there drenched we both laughed.
Her hands covered in acrylic.
She fed me apple sauce browns and pepperoni reds.
Banana cream tans as well as blueberry blues.
Her thoughts covered me in taste.
Hands warm to the touch.
Covered in paint I was identical to all her favorite things.
I became the table which she viewed the world.
Splashed in infatuation

The one you seek, hides.
You linger about searching.
Pink packets of sugar.

You are one of natures most beautiful flowers.
Still growing bit by bit, watered from the roots to blossom into one of the most beautiful smiles.
Spread to receive each and every blessing that comes your way.
Embrace every inch of sun that lights the way.
Let today be one of the most beautiful days that you've had in a while.
Don't be confined by the ceramic ***.
Spread your petals in every direction that you can

You came into my heart &
Spread your love.
Your eyes pierced my soul.
You spread your love
All my time, all my attention yours.
You came into my heart
A star, bright and red hot
Briefly pausing.
The kindest hey, one of many twinkles.
My heart decorated with thoughts of you,
Your face the brightest light.
I melt in desire.
Lit by the touch of your hand
Borrowing you from the sky.
My heart but a passionate fire.
Trailed by a kiss
Your arms warm to the touch.
The way you look at me,
Searching for you amongst the stars
Your kiss still wet on my face

No matter how many times
We are shuffled.
No matter how many times
We are split apart.
I'll always find you.
My Queen, my diamond in the rough. 
My heart forever upright in your hand.
Lost in all the minutes, the seconds.
All the numbered cards and look a likes
That re-symbol you, re-symbol I.
Shuffled in search of love
Shuffled in search to belong
My head nestled warm against yours.
Split between us two
Face flat against your heart.
Lost in the minutes, the seconds
All the numbered cards and look a likes
That could never surmount the stakes of losing you.
No matter the bluff

I'd rather you find me on your lips
Than anywhere else.
Far away from home
Pulled over on the side of the road.
I'd rather you feel me on your lips
Two to three months later,
Still attached.
No expectations, no seat belts.
Just you & I
The keys lost some where on the floor.
My tongue wandering around
stargazing in your mouth
Somewhere under the stars
Far away from home

Hold out your hand
So I can pull you closer.
Watching the stars light one by one.
I've never seen them this close, the stars.
Sparkling like they are dancing,
Your eyes staring deep into mine.
Tell me you know how to dance.
Your hand held tight in mine, the small of your back.
The stars shine so bright, hidden beneath long eyelashes.
The perfume of a constellation brimming this close.
The smudge of lipstick across my lips.
I've never seen the stars this close.
Pretty baby, I've never seen the universe quite like this.
The night wove across your skin in a dress

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
The poem I’d sit down with,
every intention of writing,
but could not come up with
the right words.
Sweet, but fierce.
Discarding perfection,
only asking for presence.
A flower that learned to survive
in a drought.

She is a poem that takes
the pieces of herself and
arranges them in love.
Not the loving pieces easily
found in the light
that’s too easy.
But the pieces that accidentally
wandered in the dark and got lost.
The pieces of herself she forgot
were there.
She takes her time,
finding these pieces and putting them
back where they belong.

When she speaks,
her tongue is like a hammer,
hammering every nail that needs
to be put into place.
Even if she misses and, instead,
hits her hand,
she doesn’t tear everything down
regardless of how much it may benefit her.
She repositions herself
and starts again.

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
As hard as it is to start again,
she’s never afraid to start again

The heart is a fragile thing,  
Only able to hold so much.  
Like a ship  
Sailing through a storm.  
Some make it through.  
Others, water fills the hull.  
  
Wave after wave,  
Try as you might.
You must stay afloat
The best way you can.  
No matter how many patches,  
Water still leaks in.  
Just like a heart,  
Pumping, but weighed down.
You must keep going.  
Take the proper precautions,
Jump overboard,
Swim if you must,  
No matter how many lies  
Have poked and prodded  
At your heart.  
No matter how many holes  
Have pierced your soul.  
Don’t drown.  
As long as you keep kicking,  
The sun will always shine.
Not all beautiful locations are
charted on a map

In all honesty.
I think what I truly desired was to be put on a plate.
And be devoured piece by piece.
My attention, all my free time.
Everything that no one else could see.
With knife and fork.
T be taken apart and devoured tastefully.
With nothing left except the juice of where I laid.
The tough parts that take time to cut,
Revealed in an instant.
To be desired in mutual attraction, a certain craving.
Covered in salt, pepper, a slice of butter.
All of my interests, my habits.
The anticipation of being sizzled and flipped on a cast iron skillet.
Served fresh on a plate.
A baked potato on the side to bring out the taste.
In all honesty.
I think I'll have a steak

I confiscated a pound of her heart
Placing it on the table
Unraveling it's package; breaking the seal
Undoubtedly her essence took to the air.
Urgency struck
Breaking down its contents; moist cigar, the press of thumbs;
Sprinkling pieces of her heart
twisting rolling twisting
Shaping odd pieces of her heart.
Brown wrap
Her essence on my lips
Tucking her heart tighter in the wrap.
A slow release
Heart shaped smoke
A Euphoric binge

I found your love in a song
I've heard before.
I listened to it often,
Wondering why it was a familiar
Feeling.
Finding your face while misplacing my headphones.
Finding your love in a song
Previously heard.

I found your love in a song
I used to love.
I listened to it day in & out.
Not really paying attention to the words
But found myself
Mouthing the words.
Listening to the beat.

Before I saw your face
I knew this feeling in a song.
A song previously heard before
It became popular.
It meant something back then,
Before it could be found any where.
This special feeling that can't be described as anything other than love.

Before I saw you walk
I'd plug my headphones in
And share a moment just between us two.
This familiar feeling

before I saw your face.
Before I misplaced my headphones.

I found your love in a song
I've heard before.
A song i continuously listened to before it became popular.
I listened to it often,
Wondering why it was a familiar
Feeling.
Until I saw your face.
It meant something back then.
Before this song could steal my love

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

Back in the day music was good.
We enjoyed ourself no matter what part of town.
From the shotguns, to the high-rises.
The urge that instantly becomes testimonial.
Immediately we'd feel better soon as the music plays.
We'd forget everything else.
Like millions of feet echoing through our ears.
Our body reacts.
The experience of true euphoria when the music takes over.
Suddenly the load doesn't seem so heavy.

From the condos to the slums.
The mark of an era.
Going on down the road.
Nothing to do but walk.
Strut your strut.
The struggle to be free.
The stratosphere doesn't seem all so far.
The absolute rule of thumb.
Coming alive blowing out the dust,
The relationship between artist to listener.
To welcome birth.
The experience of it all.
Nothing but the road in front.
Strutting along.
Living, breathing.
To enjoy yourself no matter what part of town.
From projects to burb.
To step off the curb leave work behind. 

Dance the block.

Clocking out.
Stepping to life.

Some of the best memories ever

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

And your voice
It still gives me chills.
Thinking about the last we spoke.
If you still hold even an once of the love you had for me.
The precise moment I silenced my words.
Wanting to know but not wanting to refer to the beautiful moments we shared as a memory.
Becoming more distant.
Even as I stand in front of you.
I still care, no matter how far we stand.
Even now.
The same gleam in your eye that I could call mine.
I admit that I've tried.
Gathering the words as you put one foot in front of the other.
Even if that ounce still exists,
I'd very much like to know
That you still care
As the love I have for you is still very much alive.
Taking one step out of my life.
One moment at a time,
Do you

I was mute.
Responding to the silence in-between the dial tone.
A new proposal of a new unlimited data plan.
I don't know how many gigs equate to the amount of anticipation.
Sitting in silence.
Phone pressed against my ear waiting to the sound of your voice.
The smell of stair-fry coming from an oval pan.
The smell of darkened beef and steamed vegetables sizzling by a *** of rice.
Boiling over in anticipation

She's the type of girl you get ****** to
Late night conversations
Broken down wrapped tight
The type of girl you laugh & trip with,
Without intention of escape,
A means of quick get away.
The type of girl that's good for your mental.
Filled with hopes & dreams
Down for whatever, at anytime.
Not the average high you'll find.
Shes not a shot type of girl.
Out in the height of the night,
The one you turn to
to run away from your problems.
A bitter taste chased one after another.
She was the girl not everyone is familiar with
But has heard of.
Her type of high one of intellect
not easily found on the block.
Friend of a friend hipped on game


She was the type of girl that put you on the real.
The type you tilt your head to the left and puff.
The type of high you only dream about.
Real tokers know her brand of intrigue
The kind of high you keep to yourself

I was a stranger, one whom forgot to say thank you.
She beat my hand to the door. Holding it open as I walked past.
It totally slipped my mind. Rushing to make it outside before my uber left.
Too drunk to drive.
My mind totally in another place.
She was much as a stranger as I.
A beautiful smile passed in a blur.
Soon as I turned around she was gone.
It crossed my mind to knock on every door until I saw her face.
Life is far from a movie, nine times out of ten her boyfriend would have answered the door.
Some strange looking dude with every right to be protective, uneven line.
Dingy basketball shorts.
Soon to leave moments after I do.
The color of my shirt standing out in an all white hall.
Finally complying to my uber driver's yell.
I figured that tomorrow is tomorrow.
But if I see her again that would be perfect.
Mentioning that I forgot to say "Thank you"

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

Truth be told
We walk pass each other without a single word.
Stubborn to the presence of each other.
Yet we look with secrecy, afraid to be noticed.
Terrified of becoming strangers.
Unknowingly judged by thought itself.
The grief of lips unspoken. The sudden appearance of a familiar feeling.
Afraid to speak, the sudden urge of hey.
Today but one of a million.
Disguised as a single moment
We but two people lost in the same moment.
Yet nothing is familiar.
The distance between us grows.
Truth be told
I miss you and can never tell you
While today is but one of a million more
That I moved my mouth
But nothing came out
Normally, it's easier to open up to strangers

I had no idea I needed this
Diving in head first; washing upon the shore
Realizing that my heart was not my own.
Stranger things have happened
Reaching out, no longer complicating the accordance of simplicity;
The fear of swimming not truly knowing current
The tension of facing the unknown
Instead choosing to drown in widened explanation
Delicate notions residing in the eyes of a stranger whom feels they've known you forever
A perk of being rescued;
Frowned face in constant wonderment
The altitude of widespread comfort easing tense muscle movements
Crashing down losing consciousness.
Washing upon the shore
Realizing that in reality  we never sunk
Then again,
Stranger things have happened

In the sole purpose of love.
I confused a strawberry for that of a heart.
I didn't at all feel ashamed. Sharing a divine pleasure.
I allowed myself to confess everything my heart felt with this strawberry.
A fruit practical. Knowing all of life's mystery.
Plump in the way it stared.
An everyday conversation turned into something precious.
My hand becoming like a stem.
The strawberry now confusing me for one of it's own.
Sharing the same subtle silence.
Relaxed in the freedom that mistakes can and will occur but something
extraordinary can happen.
Introducing ourselves to a different us.
More tolerable.
Enjoying the gift of each others company.
Sincere in a moment of sensitivity.
Both of our cheeks blushed in red.
Sharing a deep thought that traveled it's way into purpose.
A seed ripe in the way it gushed into deep infatuation.
A mouth in need, the will to quench arising urge.
Communication in purest form.
The vine that ensues nourishment from soil colored hands.
Cleansed in warmth, devoured whole

Strength can be found all around us. No matter how high or how low.
There is always something there that reminds us of what we are truly capable of.
Always promise yourself to be the shield that deflects the storm.
Guarding your body, your mind.
Your loved ones.
Just as there are many different ways a picture could tell a thousand stories.
Just as there are many lessons within the reason for every season.
Let your joy be one of enthusiastic proportion.
As nothing can steal your joy.
Acknowledge yourself for all that you do as this life thing only comes around once

In ultimate reference.
I am not sure of the source.
With great modesty out the window.
I am a great believer and hold this to be true.
All things in heart are true.
A curious emotion.
Passionate in photography.

The literature of perfect emotion.

The exact existence of perfected mess. 

I imagine the most beautiful sight.

Cinematic in nature.

The things that appear exactly how they are.

Existing because our belief is they do.

In truth we are fragile.

Oblivious to the chaos that moves scene by scene.

We are in love pretending not to see how beautiful the mess we create.

How completely compulsive we are.

Ignoring that we've lost control,

Sooner or later,

We notice it's manifestation.

And I can see how beautiful you are.

In perfect justice,

I am mindful that I want to strip you down

I've never been very good at listening.
I imagine that I resonate with a piece of you that reminds me of the same piece of me.
When I come face to face with this piece.
I realize that not everything can be changed.
That's what makes it important.
Otherwise the urge to speak would never come.
Realizing this occurrence,
It becomes familar.
Not once does fear strike.
All in all there's no interruption.
The well being of ourselves.
The very things that no matter what, we tend to recognize.
No matter the grief.
And like that very thing I become a child.
Not realizing the meaning of being alive.
Within these moments I turn to you for guidance.
I look up and realize a stubbornness.

I admit.
I've never been good at listening.
Although I vocalize the feeling.
We go through extreme measures when the appearance isn't quite right.
In light of innocence I am struck time and time again.
The lashings of what I'll always believe.
It becomes excessive.
Coming into contact with this same piece of me that I have found in you.
That no matter the argument.
We understand that there is an accord that cannot be ignored.
We live in a state where this paradox becomes conscious.
Separating what is right, as well as wrong.
At times we may disagree, proving in these times that it takes growth to be heard.
And I have heard you this whole time.
This piece of me that has fallen in love with every piece of you.
Both stubborn and impatient

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thoughts and ideas.

The more that time went on,

The more I became of her.

She noticed the subtle change of how quiet I became.

The will to want to do anything now gone.

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

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

Correcting her face in the mirror.

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

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

Devouring those that encounter her.

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

The damage was done