As he sails around  

eyes blurred by the motion of the world as it whizzes by

                                    
                        ­                                                               A smile escapes him
Not even the wind can chill his mind
From the rolling boil of the ecstasy
Which bubbles and dances in his shell

                                             The greens, the blues

                                     The fresh air burning his cheeks
                                 The rushing wind pummeling his ears
                                           All play the song of life

                                                                ­                        For the first time
                                                                ­                    He can hear it in all its
                                                                                       syncopated glory

He exists

And finds solace in being lucky to exist

                                                         
In this life…

                                                    On a bike…
  
                                                                ­                                      Going home
                                                            ­ …

There is a moment that repeats throughout my life.
Every time I encounter it,
I am brought to tears of wonder.
Both sad and happy
Free and also confined,
I begin to remember all the amazing things I have done
All the beautiful things I have seen,
And a thought forms...
I realize...
"I know nothing..."
            ...
And I am lifted...

I just realized,
my love is unconditional.

I do not keep my tiger love caged in my heart,
awaiting the day you unlock it from its silent captivity.

I do not envelope my childish love in a colorful plastic ball,
floating only on a steady stream of your affection.

I do not lay my heavy love on a bed of nails,
praying that not one spike protrudes

My love does not bite its nails
in anticipation of your call.

My love does not boil
in heated angst for your touch.

my love is.
It just is.

It sits happily in my chest,
with a smile that knows.

It just knows.

I would say you have my love,
but that would be a lie.

It rests, in joyous surrender
where you left it.

It is my guide when I explore the mysteries
deep inside of me.

My love is your gift.

I surrender the rest of my life
to ruminations on its wonder

so that I may learn to gift it as you have:
freely, patiently... unconditionally.

Love is not four letters put together.
It’s you and me laying underneath the night sky
on a blanket too small to fit both of us.
It’s me wanting your eyes more than
any of the stars above us.
Love is not the words found on our lips.
It’s the silence I found your heart in at 3 am.
It’s the silence you found mine in too.
Love doesn’t live inside our hearts.
It’s carved into our bones.
It itches in our fingers.
Love is what keeps the pieces inside of me
together when I feel your hand brush mine.
And on the days that leave you at your weakest,
I will pull you close and remind you
that I’m still here,
and love is not just a feeling.
It was never just a feeling.
It’s the liquid you’ve put in my veins.
It’s the warmth I feel
when I wake up every morning.
I’m all out of metaphors.
To put it quite simply:
love is what I see in you.
And you are beautiful;
every piece.

I tried to drink deeply of the sky
the other day,
but lately I’ve been short of breath.
The air around me isn’t good enough.
The air between us isn’t good enough.
It’s too safe.
It isn’t pure.
It isn’t full of stars
and sunlight.
It doesn’t hold oceans
or forests
or peaking mountains.
It is air that is 2 weeks past its expiration date.
It won’t do.
I need more than the air between us,
I need the air inside your lungs.
So I will remove it with my own,
as you give me stitches made of honey
to sink into the cuts along my tongue.
I will carefully remove every last bit of it,
as it is the only thing that is keeping
me from drowning in the sea that
tosses within me.
It will keep me solid when my bones
start to evaporate.
It will fill each chamber of my heart,
pass through my lungs, and return again;
continuing to refill me.
I need more than the air between us,
I need the air inside your lungs.
No other air will do.

I’m sitting in the spot
where I wrote my first poem,
but all I can think about is you.
I suppose writing your first poem
and seeing your first poem
are two very different things.

And your love,
tied like an anchor to my heart,
keeps sinking me deeper into you.

I leave the lights off whenever I get home now.
My eyes don’t care much for looking around these days.
My heart was never big enough to get lost in anyways.
They say we haven’t seen most of the ocean floor,
but I could tell you all about it right now.
And that’s okay.
I’m not okay,
but I’m okay.
Even the sea must let go sometimes
and trust that its tides know where
they must be.
Even the waves know it takes time
before they can be free.
I don’t need light to see that darkness
knows how to wait patiently.
And I’m not scared of the dark anymore,
since I’ve realized that it’s just a part of me.