I have a,

well,

I'm unsure what to call it.

Deep
receding
yet receiving water

Whenever you speak
I listen carefully.
Finding much needed serenity.
Placing myself in our every private conversation.
The way you could read my mind.
Your voice a familiar place in my ear.
Those full brown eyes that stare off in a dream.
Sometimes I wonder what's on your mind.
My wish to hug you as hard as I can.
Your chest against mine, eyes closed in comfort.
When you speak I am in ultimate comfort.
This comfort of just being around you.
All the little things I've missed so much.
Inches away from my nose.
The times we've shared.
The touch of your lips,
The smile of seeing your face.
Bursting into laughter.
Most of the time you keep quiet.
And that's understandable,
Those full brown eyes caught in a dream.
When you do speak.
Every word becomes that much more precious.
I listen intently,
Knowing just inches from my nose.
Is the result of a dream I've had quite often

Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished.
Like us, a draft
of what can be called
"the both of us."
A draft created
that's open for change.

A change
to be better
---better
than who we are
or what we are
in the midst of the conflict
that floats around us
for the sake of us
for the both of us
---for each other.

A change
to be smoother
---smoother
with no mistakes,
with everything
in order;
consistent,
and coherent
even with the dialogues
we say that matter.

A change
to be clearer
---clearer,
meaning it is
at least what it is
meant to be conveying
with no underlying
vague wordings
when it comes
to our feelings
---for one another.

But that's there all is:
a draft
of what could be called
the both of us;
a product
of what we can become
if we make it become;
a product
of the possibilities
of what can be us,
of what might be us,
of what is it between us
between the fragments
of the words,
the lines,
and the series
of all of them
that constantly paint
faint descriptions of us,
descriptions
created [fabricated]
in my mind
like a work of fiction,
of pure imagination.

Unfinished,
unpolished,
unfurnished;
unpublished,
l­ike the poems
I wrote for us;
like the poems
about us;
like us, a draft.

write with love
for love

write out your anger
before it becomes a danger

write out your pain
in case it gets heavy inside your chest

write out your ideas and thoughts that flow in your head
don't lose them
they can become a masterpiece

Always write out
who are you
if you're losing yourself

writing in my dreams
writing in my sleep

I never want to stop myself
from expressing myself

you pulled the words from my head
and threw them far away

I'll get them back

Love is as old as the sun
When we were young,
it was all about holding hands, wanting to be close to each other but truth is, we were blind to see that love was bringing us together.
Suddenly we became taller, you started getting hips and my voice got deeper.
We started writing love letters to those we smittened.
Along the way, we hurt one another and it helped us grow.
Here we are now, dating and traveling like two love birds.
What kept us going is patience, trust and when we suddenly understand what love figures are, we let wedding bells ring that beautiful moment
When I finally become yours and you now all mine