Hands clasped
between the milk mustaches
on rotting benches
with nowhere to go
but nearer.
Vines entangle their feet
flutters begin and
reality lands on their laps.
No comprehension of time
the mess it brings.
Living in the current
the ebb and flow
the cyclical pattern
of living and love.
Each freckle an apology
to accompany the age lines of wisdom.
Nearer they grow
by the pattern of the moon
and his watchful eyes.
Now, they decide,
is the time to die.
To separate self from self
and self from soul.
Their last kiss brings
the sea's salty tears
and quenches the fountain of life.
It's belly never too full
it's false promises
mislabeled for eternal propaganda.
The last sand grain drops
and their hands release
crooked bodies and
even more crooked souls.
Again, they mush wait,
this time for the rain.

I am clothed with
embarrassment and disgust.
But *******
would only highlight
more flaws- that
I already must confront
each day in the mirror.
I am not self-sufficient
and never will be.
I do not have the resources
or intelligence.
This is clear to see- to
anyone on the outside.
But there is a source
of peace and acceptance
where my nakedness is
not viewed as shameful,
but as a gorgeous
mess of heartache
and redemption.

Broken glass shines brightly
beautifully mangled and
shredded to pieces.
Before the fall,
its wholeness was not complete.
It lacked the cracks
it sparkled less
and all we could see
was ourselves.

There is concrete around us
there are trashcans and garbage
and babies and flowers.
There is the power and deception
of humanity and
beautiful people to be saved.

We saw ourselves in all
our (untrue) glory
and walked on broken glass
proclaiming that it didn't hurt.
Missing the light shining
from those pieces we crushed.
But that demolition is
where our truth lies.

The demon is saddled
with reins controlling
a thrashing head
limbs kicking wildly
from their chains
as a helpless babe in water
mouth seething with anger
and eyes ablaze with fury
It's mission to
****
steal
and
destroy

Your hands fit perfectly
in the dips of my waist.

Your chin rests effortlessly
on the top of my head.

Our souls complement each other
just like our anatomy.

In that cocoon
nestled between the stone
only love existed.
I baby kissed your face
and all you could
do was laugh and smile.
There was joy within and
between our bodies.
Doing anything else
but be in that moment
seemed futile.
Your heartbeat kept
the pace of our day
and beat faster
when I kissed you.
The breeze skimmed
our flesh
and made us
cuddle closer-
reminding us what
love really feels like.
We remembered the
constitution of friendship and
its inevitable love-
All in that swinging cocoon.

Everything I see
brings you to mind.
The carpet lines are
the stripes on your shirt.
The red bricks are
your lips-
and, yes, they smile at me.
The windows of my house
are your eyes.
The thick grass
moves like you hair
and my fingers want
to scratch your dirt scalp.
Every white car
is yours.
The wind is
your voice
and the sunshine
your laugh.

I see your photo
and it's only
an image,
yet you are
always around me
and soon enough-
your features
that I see
in this world
will be real
and physically near.

buoyant
lives
with no
substance
sailing
as a
leaf
in the
wind.
"I am
okay,
I am
not
drowning."
Yes, but
you are
not
flying.

Three days for by
too fast.
Faster than the sun rises
and sets,
it seems.
The night before,
brings me to tears
as I hug you,
forgetting to be glad
you are here now,
not that you will
be gone tomorrow.
Though, tomorrow,
it will hurt.
An emptiness
in my stomach
will ache.
So why tonight
must I cry too?

Ah, that is for
love.

I cry when my
arms are around you
and your head lays on mine
for the beauty of love.
I cry when I play
with your fingers
and tell you
"you're perfect"
because of this
tragic ecstasy
called love.
I cry when you say
I'm a beautiful and
strong woman
for love.
When you are here
or when you're gone,
I love you.
States away and
months away,
I love you.

So the night before,
while your  body
is near,
I cry and hug you.
Tomorrow,
while your body is far,
I will cry, too
simply
because
I love you.

In the lines of your palm-
the trenches of your skin,
is where I keep my heart.
You hold it safely and
keep it from falling.
The depths of your flesh
is where my heart calls home.

In the lines of my palm-
the trenches of my skin,
is where you keep your heart.
I hold it with care and
keep it from breaking.
The depths of my flesh
is where your heart calls home.

Our palms unite our hearts
and bring an aching of pure love.

I am positive there is
no other
for me
than you.

You are it.
Him.
My only.

My best friend
and
no one else could ever feel
quite right.

You are my complement,
my other.

And that's all.

We might as well accept it
because there's nothing
we can do about it.

Nothing.
At all.

In those eight years,
you may have been oblivious.
But,
I've always known.

He keeps me warm at night
his breath-
in and out-
on the nape of my neck
sends goosebumps
and satisfaction.
His arm around my hip,
turned on its side,
like his,
so my back and his chest
are one.
He keeps me warm at night
and when I toss from the images,
he stays right beside me
holding me
securing me to our bed and this world.
His chest rises and falls and his
noises begin.
And I am there, beside him,
to take it all in-
his breath
his heartbeat
embrace and feel
and know that he's with me there
under the covers
keeping me safe and warm.

For your birthday,
I want you to know one thing.
It's not that you're incredible
or that I find you (so) attractive.
It's not that I am lucky
to be with my best friend.
Or that your eyes
your nose
your smile
are perfect
It's not that you treat me so well
and hug me like you mean it.
Or that I am proud
to call your mine and
want everyone to know it.
It's not that your kisses
your embraces
your words
take me to another world
and cause me to melt.

No,
what I want you to know
on your birthday is not these.
But,
all of these
plus
one loaded phrase.
I love you.

My love for you is abounding,
without barriers,
flawed,
and encompassing.

My love, itself, aches and
is joyful,
is loving,
and satisfied.

This love is goosebumps,
and fingers touching,
and intimate
and best friends.

We love as the waves break,
the fire consumes,
and the sheets ruffle.
We love as one.