My mind
In a constant spiral
Over him and
What he brings
To the checkered tablecloth
A jar of love
The king of wands
Heaven on ******
In the meadows
Full bloom when hes around
But hes constantly out of sight
Possesions include:
A fridge fully stalked
With toothpicks and paint cans
28+ half-read books
And me, if the fortuneteller
Proves Right
Signals from a flip phone
Love through powerlines
A memory
Of moments where
Red reaches tongue
Sticks play poker with my back
Bugs take over the throne
"I could live like this"
Or maybe I just don't want it to end
I wait for him
In uncomfortable chairs
Dressed in black leather
Oil on my hands
To slick to open the jar
Diamorphine gone rotten
Famine of song
Laying in a field
Of machinery and melancholy
Holy water
The presence
Of the 3rd state of matter
Black tulips look gorgeous on a screen
So does he.

Do you remember poem #14?
I stand within walls of poetry
from time to time
and my eyes can't help but be drawn
to a dusty copy of a gift given months ago.
It was so quite new
me and you.
Now it's not old but should be labeled as familiar.
And I love it.
And I love you,
thoughtfully
purely
and with all the love I had
when you gave me
poem #14.

if i could explain the way you make me feel
i would have poetry dripping from my lips

but its not that simple
you are to complex to put on paper
if i could write you
it would be enough emotions to fill a book or 2

but ive tried
and im just so speechless

it might just have to be nicotine and caffeine
to get me through this
because patterns prove that we must all be addicted
to something that is bad for us
if it cant be you i must fill my front pocket another way
it was gorgeous and riveting
but soon ill have no other choice
i must go back
to nicotine and caffeine

i can be a gemini too
if only you knew
the chaos will break me down
but first you

a little part
of my heart
is back,
it never left,
i promise
now it's just here again,
so strong,
stronger than ever.
oh how i missed it.
and oh how
happy i am
to have it back,
thank you, universe,
i appreciate it
so much.
i wanted it back,
but i also needed it
to fade away so that i could
realize how much
i appreciate it,
how much i require it,
this little part
of my heart.

observing is sheer pleasure;
writing is sheer pain.
but if we don't set down on paper
what we have observed,
how are we going to document
the miracle of life?

earlier on,
he had viewed the
seasonal flowers
as magnificent,
and gardens
as the most beautiful thing
in the world.

but when everything is grown,
the weeks stretch into months and
time is not
that of free will.

he and Emma had tea with
company around the globe.

distances will be among
the most difficult for me

but you need to do this
for me,
for you.

i can't explain this
feeling
so
so
bittersweet.
it's riveting
yet difficult.
it's so deep inside of me
that it has
consumed
every part of my life.
but is simple enough
to compare it to fruit.
someone, please
explain.

in the summer
for only a moment

he burnt his tongue
to the bottom of a flask
along with his gun

to settle down
to see that he
aimed correctly

with his blue eyes
which observed and
recorded everything

my young man
loving you
made a mark

its been more than a day
yet it feels longer than that
re-thought
re-touched
re-done
everything still reminds me of you
and i know its bad
when the music doesn't help

its not the clothes on a persons back,
its not the way they look,
the color of their skin,
or the amount of makeup on their face.
it is the music they like,
the passion they have,
its what makes them smile,
and how they choose to love
that defines a person.
the body is not something
to judge, but something
to love.

i swear i saw
all the water
in the world when
i saw you cry
for the first time

let love grow
let it bloom
let it expand, multiply,
and thrive.
you receive what you give.
so give a lot.
please, fan the flames
that burn the brightest.
you can be incredible
you can give and receive love.
but only if you let yourself.
prove that you can do and become
anything.
you can thrive in your own
asperations,
but only if you are
willing to work for it.
to work for one thing,
love.

i drink tea in the shower
i listen to classical music
the water plays games
with my eyes
nose
my mouth
but my ears
they are consumed
with the sound of the piano
the violin the cello
don't be envious
you can have this too
i promise

i'd never thought it would be possible
someone like you
the color of cherries fill the room
when you walk in
the music does not stop
it changes
to the worst part of my favorite song
you are the reason the
red wine walls are at a loss of color
but i can't be impassioned
you are the one who painted them
you may bend the law
but your reconciliation is thriving
like a cherry you hold
something inside
but i,
i will swallow you whole