And for your love
and the romance
of our lives
I've decided to
attempt dancing
and all the glories
that come along.
For, this romance isn't
the aroma of accordion music
filling the Paris streets at nighttime,
while a couple dances
under the streetlights,
as rain begins to fall.
It's a romance about humanity
and desire and its heartache
that tries to tango in the suburbs
and tap in the slums,
whose clumsy movements cause
embarrassment for any party involved.
This love has a rhythm unlike
a big band hit or a bluegrass hand-clapper.
It has a rhythm all of its own.
Closest to, maybe, jazz.
The real jazz. The Harlem jazz.
Sparatic and unpredictable.
Upbeat, swinging cymbals and trumpets.
Then a slow sax,
with bluesy vocals crying out in pain.
Because you can't two step
or foxtrot
or tango
to that.
You must step carefully.
For this romance is fragile.
You cannot choreograph in advance
or synchronize moves
with your lovers'.
You simply must listen, feel, and move.
This dance of love
must cause you to cry
and smile
and melt
and ache
and desire to make love
all in the same motion.
Or it's not love.
It's an imitation
aimed at the beautiful and elegant.
And we aren't that.
We're humans with souls and flaws
who desire these false
motions and harmonies
of love,
but who need to still understand
love's true tender
and heartbreaking steps
that have no
recognizable rhythm,
but that promise
a lifetime of love.
So, I will not learn
love's romantic moves
for they are unteachable,
but I will attempt,
for your love
and romance,
my dear,
to sway to the music
and stay beside you
and follow your lead
as we wait for the
drums and the horns-
and the music to begin.

in my eyes is you.
and your heart.
and your soul.

in my eyes is your presence.
which is so alive.
and empowering.

in my eyes is your voice.
your sweet sweet voice.
whose words bring me comfort.
& belief.

in my eyes is you.
and my muscles and nerves ache.
because of your weight.
and knowing that you're always a part of me-
seeing my world-
all the beauty it has.

or is that you?

is my vision simply tinted
by your spirit,
optimism and beauty?

your spirit filters what I see
and you are the hue of my world.
because in my eyes is you.

and in your eyes
(i hope) is me.
and my nature.

so just maybe
the view you see
is the hue of me.
like my world's
hue is always you.

lay down with me,
love,
and tell me stories
that make me giggle
and tell me your struggles
that will make me cry.
keep the lights off
so we're both staring
up at a black ceiling.
talking and sharing
our lives
and our takes on this existence.
after too much silence,
pull me close and
wrap your limbs around me.
whisper "I love you" in my ear
and kiss the top of my head.
now who's to say what will
happen next-
we may fall asleep or
things may go another way.
let's just see,
so come lay down with me,
love.

When this beautiful gets lonely
and our temptations aren't so tempting
it's then we must break.
This existence becomes defined
by something other than our living
other than our breathing
or even our actions.
This beautiful is not so beautiful
it becomes dull and stagnant
and suffocating.
We must look for air.
The air, breath, and life
that doesn't lose shine or
its vibrance.
Where our lonely is not so lonely
but disproved
by love and sacrifice.
And where beautiful
is beautiful all the the time.

I want you.
To have your arms around me
and push the hair off my face
as you hold my neck
for a kiss.
I want you.
To tell me things that are true
and show me the kindness in the world
and believe in me.
I want you.
To sing in your falsetto
and speak in that idiotic accent
while I roll my eyes at you.
You can have me, too,
if you want.
I guess that's only fair.
I can tell you jokes
and make you smile
and kiss you.
Boy, will I kiss you.
I want you
to know I want you.
And have never
been more in love with you.

When I journeyed into the unknown,
I became familiar with something.
an element of peace.
and silence and solitude.
the world wasn't grey.
but green and vibrant.
humid and alive.
I spoke of things hidden
and confusing to even myself.
but it all made sense.
Everything worked and lived as
they were meant to.
in this weird unknown.
How was I to know where I was?
I certainly had no map.
or compass to my name.
So I wrote and began to
dream of a world even
greater than this paradise.
Where my heart wouldn't even
remember
that there was a past
and hard times.
Just an eternity ahead
to love you.

Alright,
you've convinced me.
Let's get ice cream
and eat it out of the tub
with two spoons.
Like the civilized pair we are.
We'll eat it in one sitting.
No,
maybe two.
I promise
this will be our favorite
part of the weekend.
You and me.
Munching on fattening, frozen dairy.
Enjoying every bite.
And each second
as we sit on the edge of the bed
together.
So, I'll get my shoes
you get your keys
and we'll make
one of our favorite memories.