When I met you, you were standing/leaning/being awkwardly there,
in the corner of the room.
Not quite invisible, but you didn't really stand out either.
You just sort of... were.
And I noticed.

I noticed because there was something unmistakable in your, you-ness.
Something that did not fit with your ironic tee-shirt and dark mop of hair.
One thing that stood out from your quiet still frame.
But it wasn't the way you seemed knowingly amused by the goings-on around you.
And it wasn't the way you shifted your weight so subtly but still animated, almost like you weren't real.
It wasn't even that quick smile that split your face in two when your gaze met mine.

No, more then all of that, what caught me off guard was your deceptively blue eyes.

I want to touch my fingertips
To the center of the brim of your cap
And run them along the edge
One hand in each direction
Until the stiff peak gives way to soft fabric.

I will gently slide my fingers
Under the edge of your cap
Until it lifts off your head
So that I can toss it behind you
To be forgotten about.

I will trace your jawline
While you say things
In that honeyed, gravely voice of yours
Only it's not quite gravel- not that harsh
More akin with rough sand.

Then you will smile
And your teeth will shine white against your tan skin
While your eyes crinkle and laugh
And I will fall, sinking into their pool
Of warm, caramel coffee.

You will find my hand with yours
And interlock your fingers with mine
Holding them both to your chest
Your hands are large, rough, and strong
You only hold my hand, but my body is paralyzed

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."

Does love have a purpose?
I can see by the look on your face
that you've never asked yourself this question.
Are we drawn to one another
by benevolence or want?
Is love selfless or self serving?
Are we pawns on a Darwinian game board,
the slaves of genes, or eggs and *****?
And what if you and I knew the answer,
would you still love me, and I you?

Black skirts and black blouses,
Black slacks and black jackets.
One hundred black bruised hearts.

Black faces and phrases;
“I’m sorry for your loss”s and “If I can do anything…”s.
I’m burning up and down,
Dying to run from this place like a tiger escaping his stripes.

Anger spills over,
Punches are thrown like whipped cream pies into a clowns face,
Fists fly, crows on great gusts of pain,
Noses bleed and suddenly

                      I am home.

Sliding on the ***** of death
up to see her,
knowing she would be ashamedly proud.
Watching for effervescent soda bubbles,
thinking this a terrible,
terrible April fool’s trick
only to be greeted by her ashen smile
inside a tiny                  
              wooden
                    box.

. The pulse of least resistancelies hidden within the seed.Music makes each moment rise,fulfilling wavelengths' deed.The mighty beasts of ancient dayscast down a noble's heart.Unobtrusive in the end,yet, to end is but to start.Fused with atomic energy,and hopeful honest light;the prophets sought the living cave,the skies prepared to fight.Open-hearted ancient wayshave slain the kingly foe.New life burst forth from simple seed...the seed that we let grow..