Open up your canyon lungs
and let me breathe like I am living.
I have forgotten what this tastes like.
The sky is awfully quiet,
like it has something to hide.
Dig up your bruised knuckles
from those sand-filled pockets.
We will rebuild the sun.
I sink my teeth into forgiveness
and it pours out my mouth.
Overripe;
I always wait too long.
Foolish, to keep important things
in drawers you never look in.
So I’ve dug up the front yard,
there were directions here somewhere.
Do not look at me like the stopwatches on our hearts
are the same.
Mine is counting up.
But forget that I left the front door unlocked,
this is a postcard from where I am visiting.
I hope it makes you hopeful too.
I’m sorry I don’t say things I don’t mean.
You are the ocean,
and I never know where to put my hands.

love
is standing in the cold when you are sick
if only to put a smile on the face
of the person you are with
who wants to ride the ferris wheel
if only to sit next to you
and cradle you
in moment of weakness
as your stomach turns from the height
you just want to leave
then you realize
you are looking at your reflection
in her eyes
love
is having an epiphany
that even though you are feeling weak
there is no where else you would rather be

I've been sent enough
by insecure women
attempting to garner my attention
by exposing their body
which means they don't realize
that a picture does not bear their soul
and I never was that type of man
to be stimulated by the superficial
I have gigabytes worth
In a folder I care not to look at
way back
in my hard drives cache
yet cant delete
luckily for them
I'm not the type of creep
to share them with the world
but you,
you are special enough to me
that I don't need a visual reminder
when its burnt into my synapses
for as long as I live.

The beauty of a woman
is in the poems she's wrote,
the dreams she's weaved
and all the stories she's told.

The beauty of a woman
is in the adventures she's taken,
the lives she's touched
and all the minds she's awakened.

The beauty of a woman
is in the caring she gives,
the sincerity in her laughter,
and the passion in her griefs.

It's not the expensive clothes she owns,
her body size, the diamonds she's worn.
Measure not the beauty of woman in gold,
for the beauty of a woman is reflected in her soul.

and to be completely honest
things are never picture perfect
things never end up movie-like
our lives don't have automatic background music
and your palms will get sweaty if you hold his hand for too long.
sometimes you'll **** during ***
or you'll snort when you laugh
sometimes you'll cry when you don't mean to.
plans will fall through
or you'll be too sad to make plans
and most days you won't wake up stunning
even if you're waking up beside someone you want to look pretty for

but we keep on hoping