the flood gates have opened,
               the water rushes to my center, the
                           place where I feel things
it breaks me down
                        leaks through the walls

and you are my water

      you are my rain - the rain
              that washes away everything else

Clothes drenched - strip them off.
Make-up smeared - wipe it away

            You are the river
                       I float downstream,
              watch the sun sparkle off of the
                  reflection of my face,

                            red hair clinging to my shoulders.

              you are my ocean
      and I feel infinite
                                      when your waves
                                           crash over me

So let them crash over me,
                               let them sweep me
                                                        away

                         sink to the bottom of you.

i would see you in the bed, with the blanket tucked underneath your big feet
which would probably be hanging off the bed
because you're so tall.

hair smooshed up against a pillow,
                             naked under the sheets.

you make little sound
                         other than your slow inhale and exhale
sleep suits you wonderfully



and i would take off my cardigan
then my shirt
then my skirt and tights
then my socks
then my bra
then my underwear
and for a few seconds, i would be very cold
              
        but then, i would peel back the sea of blankets surrounding you

and feel the warmth being thrown into the universe by your skin
i would
                   i would kiss your shoulder

pour myself into the space between your arm and your waist

                   and nestle in deep, breathing in your scent
pulling the ocean back over us,
     not giving you a chance to shudder at the cold.

you are

musky and soft, the scent of a log cabin in the woods
                        with bread baking inside

you are warm enough to bake me.

                        and your warmth
fills me up

like a cup of love

that you will pour for me in the morning

I wish I could drench your pain
in peppermint
rub it onto your forehead
                            and into your heart

and soak up your coffee tears
with a warm blanket
  and hold you while you cry

I wish I could sew all of our
clothes together, so I
would always be there
when the red walls start
bleeding and creeping toward
you.
        I can't fix the
world

          but I can do a few things

         I can cook you a warm breakfast
            and dinner when you come home

I can wash our clothes
      when they get filled
with the  paint that you
       drown yourself in

I can love you
                        the way my mother loves me


because that's all I know how to do.

When I hear her voice
     it rings
     it sings, it soothes
like a warm fireplace
    and she smiles
like she knows all your
problems and
      more than anything
loves and understands.

This gorgeous girl
feather earrings
orange and blue fingernails
long dresses flowing

She is poetry.

She writes messily
with tender hands
that know how to
hold a pencil like a
weapon of mass
love-making.

    She creates.
She makes
She just pulls emotion
out of the air
and breathes it onto
canvas, notebook
pages,      the backs
of my hands.

She makes color
   come alive. She
is poetry.
She is poetry
  She is soul.
She is kindess
    She is color.

She is passion

I have not written
                     anything worthwhile
in months
                   other than the words
I send you,    in bleached white
                                         envelopes

and even though, poetry is somewhat
                                                         absent,


you   are    not.


                  and you are a wonderful
                                      replacement


but now I realize -
                                 I can have both.


Because sweet sweet,
                               you are poetry

you live in my chest and you

ignite me, a catalyst for

      these words-         a place
for them to grow

                      you allow me to be
                        me.
and you do this very simply-

by loving what I do. You

think I'm so talented, but I know

that some of it is just a
self-fulfilling prophecy.

                     You tell me
             I write beautifully -
      that you appreciate my poems.



Can't you see?
                           That's why  I

                               write them.

Can't you see?
                          You are
                                     my poetry.

Your fingertips -
                                     as if covered in black ink
                                                                          or mud -
   have left markings on my hips

                     where you pushed your
                                      hands into me,

your lips left love on my skin


and the places you would plunge into me

             and I would dive into you, too

is a place
       that aches as I write this

is a place of forgiveness
                                        of giving

and your fingertips pressed into my
                   skin
                            and weaved through
                                      my hair

my scalp only gave
                                      and we pulled
                            each other and pushed
                             even harder until
I rose to the top -
                  then you.

ten words
I simply can't
   escape you
but do I want to?

haiku
you caress my mind
delicately with soft words
    I miss your hands more

10 words
difficult to imagine
your grace and charm
wasted
               on Texas.

haiku
chairs and warm coffee
I sit obsessed with letters
your envelope, brown

10 words
I want you
to move back.
Home- be with me

haiku
I can't really press
you will make your own choices
But I stay hopeful.

10 words
maybe
someday
soon, you
will come back around this direction.

haiku*
confession of mine
I dream of your voice and hands
startled, awaken.


I've said some things
to you, in the past
in that space/time
     continuum that

have whipped me into shape

            why I thought
I could do better than
                               you

I have no idea


but I hope you dance
                    more now

      and I hope you
never lost your sweet
                            smile

Because when I can't
   sleep,      I
throw the blankets off of me,
and I think hard- imagining
a perfect relationship

                      and realize
that perfection does not exist

      but I always
think,
                     "I got pretty
close to perfect
             with you."