in the fading silver light of dusk,
we leave our marks on each other:
me, with my fingernails;
and you, with your teeth -

but deeper than that;
me with my heart,
and you with yours.

fearing, as i always have,
assigning meaning to something which has none;
i am quiet.
i don't tell you that your eyes thrill me
infinitely more than your hands do,
or that the way the shadows tuck themselves into your neck
leaves me breathless.

how could i?
i don't have the words, or the guts to say them.
all i have are my hands, my fingernails, my lips -
more than flesh and bone; tiny vessels
that together form my only means of conveyance -

but, fearing, as i always have,
assigning meaning to something which has none;
i will simply say this:

i hope you, too, feel as if
we go together
really really well.

these nameless moments spent with you,
the one i love most dearly;
quiet mornings
cradled in the hands of time -
your words and laughter
glowing deep in my heart:

a point of light in my thoughts
forever.

I've always told you that I love the sun
But when it rises in the morning,
Climbing into the sky
The way an old man climbs a staircase:
Slowly, but with great determination,

As it reaches its long arms into gaps between curtains,
As it tickles closed eyelids and leaves sweet morning dew on the grass,

I want nothing more
Than to untie the strands of time
Like unruly shoelaces;
To strum them like guitar strings
And play a lullaby sweet enough
To coax the earth back to sleep,
To persuade the sun to return to its hiding place
And let me lie a little longer
Here with you.