Sun not even threatening
To set on this
Spring
Evening, and through her
Window facing the
Backyard I only now realise
That the maple tree must
Have been
Blossoming for days.

I suppose I was too occupied
With nonsense to
Notice.
Let's go, she whispers.
Let's forget about holding
Back, being rational, being so
******* realistic. Leave with
Me and just love.
I might.

I might already
Have come.

Haunted for decades by
Ghosts in the shape of
My own broken parts.

At my most vulnerable, I
Am torn and spilling.
Some girls have knives

For fingernails; broadsword
Words swung by own
Insecurities-

To chop down a man
Renders many young women  
Giants in the eyes of their egos.  

Enter exorsist. Enter patient,
Slender hands around
Work worn, worried ones.

*Take your time, you man
Of open, ancient wounds.
Rain your lust upon me,

Unveil fantasies and wants.  
I'll be sand; white beaches;
Welcoming your every wave.

Little girl, your deepest fears have
Nothing on me.
Speak to me of your angst;
It's a miniscule bug to my foot.

Our pathetic misunderstandings
Are egos fighting the memories of
Each other in themselves.
Love is ***** and diamonds.

I love you prematurely when I
Sense spring on your
Skin. It turns me on beyond myself.
So let's just argue,

If that makes you feel as alive as you
Should beneath the hands of my
Unshared attention.
Little girl, your fears have nothing

On me.
I eat insecurity like sushi, wasabi
Memories of idiots telling you
You were never meant to write or

Be written of.
Grab yesterdays with the sticks of
Now-man's hands  
And toss them over your shoulder

Like salt after some you spilled.
Your deepest fear is as shallow
As a puddle.
I've shouldered ten times your

Weight, without love.
Watch me now.
You need not set a foot.
I carry you like the sky its stars.

With eyes narrow from fatigue
And worries, I gaze at the
Traces of time on my bedroom
Ceiling.

Cracks and flaking paint.
Do nightmares and dreams
Leave their imprints
In wood, like silent poltergeists

Remembered; collected;
Guarded; stored?
Invisible scars on dead surfaces.
So unlike those on me

That she finds with drowzy
Fingertips in the dark,
When I visit and cannot
Sleep from the alien music

Of the Oslo City night. It
Lacks the sound of wind
In trees playing with leaves
That usually make up my

Bedtime soundtrack.
I awoke from dreaming she'd
Left me; driving away with
Some ex and not looking back.

I ran until my
Legs buckled. Ran after her.
I sure hope her poor walls
Don't remember.

Some of our scars join up
Like ink lines on two torn
Parts of a treasure map.

My heart asks hers:  
"You wouldn't happen to
Carry the other half of

This medallion?"
Oh, this new love between
Old souls.

We embrace the mortality
Of infatuation, and our flirtations
With Death,

Our ancient, common friend.
Live every day together like we
Did our first one,

Each one apart as if it's the last.
Yes, we'll lose each other.
But let's wait a while,

While my bad heart and your
Cells that always will carry the
Threat of relapse

Save the last,
Beautiful dance for
Each other.

Some of our
Scars line up
Perfectly.

They've taken us
This far, adventurer.
I know your legs aren't tired

Yet.