Can we go back to the times when we could escape?
When we would run across the neighbor's field to the tree,
OUR tree, overlooking the river.
I want to smell the gritty bank mingled with your citrus scent.
I want to hear your secrets again, the ones you'd slip into my mouth
when we kissed.
Do you remember when we held hands and watched the leaves speckle our
skin green and gold?
I want your ocean eyes to warm me more than the sun,
for the grass to bend underneath our weight as skin touches skin.
I want you to sneak home with me again, lock my bedroom door,
and crawl under my blankets to kiss me for real.
I want to run my fingers through your satiny burnt umber hair,
look into those sapphire eyes as my lips mold to fit your pale pink ones,
perfectly.
I think I just want to love you again.

A minute amount of madness
A smidgen of disregard
Every act a flagarant mirror
Of the surrounding Bizaar

Shoeboxes in the upstairs prove
when veins were tight and hair was
that shining, gleaming, streamin,’
flaxen, waxen stuff of the 70s.
You would laugh if you could see
him in a toupee, shoulders broadened
against the end of a night shift, billy club
swinging steady by his side;
She, beautiful like Grace Kelly,
with high definition cheek bones,
her smile Rainbow Bright enough
to call the curtains down
and leave them that way forever.

But red velvet shrouds over them still;
His shoulders curve under tax forms and
knee replacements, cancer spots on his bladder and nose.
She plays with the extra turkey skin on her neck,
frowns at the grooves around her mouth.
The audience sees more than we want to.

They fade from unblemished black and white
into garish Technicolor,
Twenty-nine years
of dinner, ***** dishes left in the sink,
root canals, cat food cans,
******* stickers, laundry to fold, that milk
might be a week old.

They go on and I love them
for the death of romance,
for the things they've folded away in shoeboxes
for me to find.

The love
Only grows
With each day
And I can
Only hope
It is Never
Severed.



*Not when
Summer comes
Not when it ends
Never
Never
Let it Sever.

With eyes open it's all black. Surrounding
Encased by dark and heavy emotions:
Thinking if I am alone, just heightens
The walls as I grip preparing to swing
To surpass the thoughts of no good doing;
By believing in true self with no harm;
Where words are judged to notify alarms
That brings tunes where sorrow melodies ring.
The frustration moves to show the sky blue,
Knowing my strength is never far away,
Unclear: Why is being together *******?
Thwarted, trying to keep my sea at bay
Fearful to escape this prison I grew
To truly be true to my chimes in prayer.

We could tuck ourselves in a crevice,
between a wall
and view the stones
for what they really are.

Let the light loom over us,
shade us from the heat;
The warmth of a halogen bulb
highlighting the street.

And it’s there we’d kiss,
and spark cigarettes,
and forget why we came here,
and let no one in, let alone near,
and we’d have a private joke,
like small font liner notes,
and for that two minutes,
(more work for the coffee mule)
we would overlook the important
stuff, for
that’s what it is,
another 70, at best, years
of toil and fluff.

*This tableaux love affair
will be omitted in years to come,
filed under the ‘lusts that resulted in
no fun, that night’ folder
in the great green cabinet of bills,
bills, bills again invoices.

love is everything not explained,everything u can n can not be seen.
from a feeling that is felt beyond what can be inside
all love wants to be is something that you cannot hide
love is the art you look at but cannot read, something inside that you fiene

With the hidden eye you peer up close. With eyes that stare beyond my doors.
That abstract art you stare at it for days. not wondering what it is but how it was made
Art is created to conceal the artists first code. cryptic is its first couple of messages
once the hearts pattern is rightfully noted. comes loves full trust that still can be easily quoted