These cold autumn mornings,
Were made for you and me.
As the morning mist lingers over the rooftops,
My arm lingers over you.
Under warm covers we hide
Our bodies intertwined.
Slowly watching the day break
As the dull alarm comes alive.
Finally we break our embrace
And begin to face another day.

It's 2 am
and I haven't slept yet
so I thought
why not write you a poem?
Is it evident
that the words are wheezing
and there is no current?
The words
are wheezing
alright.
Iron rusts
when there's oxygen and moisture
and my words rust
when there's no you.
Oh,
my words
are wheezing
alright.
I've been sleeping
at the edge
of my bed, all this time
because "missing you"
is a creature on its own,
I'm not saying it's a
symbiotic relationship
but "missing you" takes up
half of my bed,
half of my words.

We walk these city streets
Two instruments to the world
As I take your hand I feel
The poetry flow from your skin

Beautiful verses of life’s song
Pour into my veins
As I trace your vibrant palm
I could listen forever

I fall in love with the overture
Played by your divine symphony
Orchestrated to perfection
Within your fingertips

We walk these city streets
Two instruments to the world
The music in our soul
Emancipated by the lovers touch

If I seem distant,
it is not because
you bore me,
but because I am busy
grasping your heartbeat
and winding the
electricity in the air
into thread, spider-thin,
so that I will never
lose track
of where we are.

Try to remember riding your bike
When summers were too short
And the time until you felt heartache would be very long.
You pick up speed down that big hill then
Bam!
Pavement.

Now I wonder if this is falling.
If my pink Huffy prepared me for love.
In that split second
between bike and ground
(the one that makes you question why you were riding a bike in the first place)
You prepare for the pain and then
Bam!

After the break-up, make-up, *****-up,
Things get better.
Once that pain heals you get up and realize that you want to ride again.
You get a new bike, sit down and pedal.
You want to ride again
And feel the wind in your hair
Because its ******* beautiful.

Where does love go?
Does it fly away from us?
On small, crumpled paper airplanes,
Made from forgotten love letters?
Or maybe it sails,
Carelessly floating away from us.
So slowly, we may not realize.
Does love run?
Can it run to you like I did,
or away from you like I would?
Does it run
or does love look back?
Does love realize a good thing
when it’s there?
Your love has taken off.
It’s off in a dead sprint
To whatever home it can find.

we’re seven years old again
it wasn’t such a danger to live in pretend

when running with scissors was the greatest crime
when nothing but ice cream was on the line
when the only thing broken was mom’s favorite vase
when we made a mistake, just stop and erase
when my brother and I fought about petty things
when it was a miracle for a butterfly to sprout wings
when we weren’t afraid to be wrong
when we listened to the radio and just sang along
when the skies were blue and the moon was bright
when the stars were what we thought of at night
when the biggest fear was the monsters under the bed
when we’d never regret a single word we said
when boys were weird and girls played with dolls
when we wanted to grow up and break from these walls

when we wished on stars and thought it would come true
when school was for drawing and flash cards and glue
when Band-Aids made the pain go away
when mom’s embrace made everything okay
when we wanted to ride a big kid bike
when the closest thing to love was like
when teachers were geniuses and parent knew it all
when we knew they were there to catch us if ever we may fall

when we could dance like no one’s watching
when we could talk like we didn’t care
when we could smile a thousand watt smile
when we could sing like no one’s there


snow was the greatest thing in the world
we didn’t count calories in birthday cake
we wanted a new toy for christmas
we ate dinner as a family
and mom and dad were the only ones in love


Looking back on that now, it seems we got our wish
We grew up, but its childhood we miss
Because now we’re all heartbroken and bleeding
Impatient
Whiney
Bruised
Needy
Pigs don’t fly and there’s no money on trees
Rainbows aren’t too colorful, sugar isn’t too sweet
Mom and Dad rarely talk and our teachers get us in trouble
Band-Aids and Mom’s hugs won’t keep us in a bubble

We were merely daydreaming, now we’re all about to fall
This is what we wanted, but we don’t want this at all