You
Composed
An
Elegant
Song
That
Fixed
This
Fragmented
Child

You know those tears you get
When you can't stop laughing
Because you don't want to
And they just rest on your cheeks
Until you finish your laughter
And you wipe them away

You know those tears you get
When you watch a sad movie
And you feel like the characters are real
Even though they're not
And the tears just rest by your lips
Until the movie is over
And you wipe them away

You know those tears you get
When you say goodbye to a friend
And you don't want them to go
But they need to go
And the tears just rest on your chin
Quivering
Until the dust settles
And you wipe them away

You know those tears you get
When you walk down the aisle
And everything is perfect
When love is beautiful
And the tears just collect on your eyes
Until you need to blink
And you wipe them away

You know those tears you get
When you remember yesterday
And you wish it were alive again
But it isn’t
And the tears just fall to the ground
They soak into the Earth
And you can't wipe them away

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

a year ago
you told me
that i am
filled with
lightning

(i
finally
believe
you)

I made a list of all our kisses, starting with just ‘kiss’
Which in the heat of passion was italicized like this:
kiss, then emphasized in variations Kiss! and KISS and KISS
Which even though ethereal somehow added to our bliss.
And later in IM we found that we could really KISS!
I mean in theory still, of course, for physically we missed
The real touch of real lips and autres choses on that list.
And there were funny graphics, I can’t reproduce them here,
But you know the ones we used a lot, they all meant kisses there
The hearton built with < and 3, which always made you smile
And the asterisks and emoticons we used once in a while
And let’s not forget those x’s which a net of crosses wove
*** and xxxx, our ******* book of love.
Soon added to our kisses came words like longingly,
And tenderly, and lingeringly and gentle morningly
Sometimes we gave it lots of tongue, but loving nibbles too
Whenever I’d le pout or tears your lashes would bedew.
These are the ones I can recall, probably there are more
I’m sure you’re itching to remind me from your memory’s vast store
And you can tell me all about them in some poetry well versed
But my love, before you write it, you’ll just have to kiss me first.

They say a wild women burnt my soul.
coughed up ashes.
raised by a whiskey bottle and a pair
of loaded dice to roll.

She showed me the blues at thirteen.
Took me by the hand.
Said boy this lifes a party and this  one
beats anything your young eyes have ever seen.

And so the taste was made  and a cure i
havent found yet.
The  best of the worst  my sweetest   regret.

Life as a party  is a vision of night.
We find more answers unasked.
Then in the moment of a fight.

Back alleys and the quick fix.
The redlight reason.
And the devils bag of tricks.

Snake eyes and your last dime.
A slow trains exit.
A suitcase of soul  with a empty wallet full of time.

Half a pint of  happiness a empty bottle of blues.
The road  is a quest.
The  path yours to choose.

Texas heat to a New York chill.
Neon cast memories  a  loner's  existance.
And a thirst I can never fulfill.

Chords  echo softley a vast reflection  in rhyme.
Ive gotta  empty bottle for a heart.
And a wallet full of time.

Twenty years from now,
where will we be?

Perhaps you and your husband
will have grown apart,
but I know you’ll stay together
for the kids.

Perhaps he’ll even let you
go out late some nights,
in a short black dress
and high-heeled shoes
when you’ve kissed them all
goodbye.

He’ll know what you get up to –
but he won’t care,
and neither will you.

And neither will I,
‘cause I won’t know.
I’ll be in some little
coastal house,
writing my poems
and ignoring the world.

But I’ll probably look you up in the end.

Will you even be alive?
Will I stagger to the top
of a hill, in the rain
and on reaching the summit,
stare in shock, at your grave?

Will I fall to my knees,
drenched to the skin,
and reflect that, in the end
I am the lucky one
to still be living?

Or maybe – just maybe,
in twenty years time
fate will have brought us back together.
Maybe I’ll wake up every morning,
and see your face.

Maybe I’ll walk into the kitchen,
and see you lounging
in your pyjamas,
with a big ‘good morning’ smile
that you’ve been saving.

Maybe we’ll get rid of our excess bread
with regular trips to the pond,
and we’ll laugh, as the ducks gather
round us, like children
to fight over what we have brought.

(I would sell my soul
for a chance to live
in heaven.)

I don’t live in the present,
I dream of the future instead
and the best thing about that
is that it isn’t set yet.

For now, it is
all fiction –
I am in control,
I can make anything happen.

But really, all I hope is that
two decades down the line,
your happiness will always be
a little more than mine.