She said, "I can't swim"
With a voice so confident
The ocean believes
They're still best friends.

Love her like
She's the raging sea,
Unrestrained and dark and deep.
And you crave her touch
Through aching pores
As you slowly drown in sleep.

Love her like
She's the tender storm,
A lovely shade of grey.
Like with every whiff
Of breath she takes,
She's taking yours away.

Love her like
She's the silent clouds
With calmness floating by.
Like you'd want to make
Sweet love to her
Under the moon's apocalyptic eye.

Love her like
She's the blazing fire,
And you lust the candied pain.
Like she's the disease
That swallowed you whole
And you'd like to die again.

When her gentle touch
Makes your chest explode,
And your addiction is your girl.
Promise you'll love her
Through hell and back,
Or don't you dare love her at all.

My heart is cold and empty,
Love has sapped me of love
In all the right places, rooted in me.
Time nourished me.
And it would be lonely for you there.

Scars bridged all fate I have,
Altogether. My poems--
Buoying me to the river
Of my mind, and out to finding you.

My heart is cold and empty.
So bring the world with you.
Your dream, your soul, your pride.
Bring the photo of your dearest smile,
The pallette of your eyes, that is
Also water, and sun, and sky.
Your discoveries and doubts--
Dear, take them with you,
For there would be many, there,
That are not. All is shadow within,
And burden, and gravity.

You would know what its like
To be the light or the feather,
A star, or hope
To one that is hopeful.
You would feel what it is
To be one, and being one,
And being all
With me.

You would kiss, as though
To love yourself. Embrace, as though
To set one free. And journey,
As though to settle on my heart,
Realigning all that is whole
With all imperfect pieces.

Now, live,
Love in faith.
Go after dreams,
And silly things,
Fail. Learn. Act.
Feel.
Drink coffee.
Sing Karaoke.
Be crazy.
Ignore poetry.
Believing,
That way,
Somehow,
You are loving me.*

© 2014 J.S.P.

Life
is at times
an unwanted gift.
The sentiment is nice
but sometimes I think  
having the receipt would be nicer.
Maybe then it could be returned.
Maybe then enough money would be given back
for a new one.

you have married me
married my spirit
called it to life from death
and bound it to you
flaming
hot
waking each limb
sensation
thought
vibration
atoms in unison
singing the cosmic rotation
"You make my life a love poem."

Sat in silent place
hop-pulse-pounding my feet in
ecstatic motion.