Sometimes, I can’t help but dream of you in colors.
I wish only to be able to describe them to you, my love.
But the fact of the matter is this: there isn’t a single hue that would do your beauty justice.

You always give me butterflies.
Won’t you take them away?
I find it nearly impossible to think when my heart is beating to the rhythm of their gossamer wings.
And it’s all because of you.

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, and
I’ve realized there are so many strikingly gorgeous people in the world.
No, I am not talking about the long hair
Or the blinding teeth or the amethyst eyes, those lovely windows to the soul.
No, I am talking about the souls, themselves.
Beautiful, creative and unique souls comprised of the most exquisite stardust. It’s none of the things we call ‘beautiful,’ here on Earth, though the face of true beauty hides behind them.

You were an angel
but feathers fall like bowling *****
when the air is missing from the room,
from your lungs.
You gasped when I called you out, a
baffled sound, surprised more so, only by
the startling sensation of your wings being torn off.
Though, that warranted bloodcurdling screams,
and rightfully received them.
You had us all fooled with silken lies,
but Caroline Janeway saw you in the back of Al’s
Pool Hall in Roseville, Minnesota, back in 1994.  
And last I checked, heaven wasn’t in the back of Al’s Pool Hall.
She said that you were glued to the lips of some chick in a miniskirt,
that you looked like you’d had one hell of a time.
That’s when I put it all together: you weren’t an angel, you never were.
You’ve always been good at bending the truth, though.
Here I was thinking that you’d fallen from heaven,
but really, I’d just fallen for you.
Solitary walks through silent city streets seem to clear the air for me.
You needed to become a part of my past, but how
do I fix the damage that’s been done?
You had a broken halo and I, a broken heart.
I never knew you could be so savage.
The glittering look of endearment in your eyes was
lust and nothing more. I saw so much more.
You, Cupid, loose an arrow; though it sticks I can
no more than despise you, now.
I pluck it from my side, warm, sticky blood
running down in streams.
Janie would have fainted at such a sight.  
I’d stand frozen, watching it all unfold before me.
Your bloodied, pristine, feathers litter the ground.
There I stood, trapped by a web of lies.
Yet, la mia anima è libera, my soul is free.
I feel more weightless, now, than any feather ever could.
Though, I suspect that they feel freed from you as well.
You were never an angel but you fell from grace.
I hand you the arrow, dried blood covering the silver tip.

I poured myself out onto you, ink on vellum, your
skin gravelly, your alluring purr as smooth as silk and
soft as velvet, but as you folded me in your arms, my words
were lost like cries in the wind. For once, in a long time, I looked
at you, truly looked at you. I looked past the thin sheen of sweat at your
brow, like the dew on the blades of brown grass in the hot summer mornings.
I looked past the spray of freckles that dusted the tops of your cheeks and the bridge
of your nose, the freckles you loathed so much when you were just a boy because they
reminded you of flecks of glitter. I looked past the blonde locks that ringed your face like a
golden halo. Your hair is longer now, than it was, when we were kids, but I doubt that even
now, you’d let me braid it. I looked past all the little details I’d noticed about you
when we were growing up, and now, I saw a man with amethyst eyes and a
longing washed over me like a wave, pulling me down with the undertow.
I long to know this you as I once knew you, so well, like the back
of my own hand. So, with salt and foam, sweat and ink and in
every sweeping wave, drag me into those lovely amethyst
eyes. If the eyes truly are the windows to the soul,
pour in like a light and flood on the floor. Show me
what you’ve become, because, while I easily
recognize your flesh and outer
appearance, I long to know
you deeper than looks
could ever go.
Sink me,
show
me.

A cool September day we met, with the rustling of the wind, and the sound of closing car doors.

Now my heart’s desire is to know you more, to be found in you, and to be known as  yours.

To lay with my head on your lap, was all I ever really wanted do.                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                                 
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­        A place where I can be safe.                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                    A place where I can be warm.      
                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                                  Somewhere I can let every care float away from my mind.

When I am with you, even breathing has a sweetness, to it, that I can't begin to describe.