Enamored.

Oh, but what does it mean?

I am enamored with you.

In which way?

Enamored.

E-N-A-M-O-R-E-D.

Verb; be filled with a feeling of love for.

Or

Have a liking or admiration for.

You are enamored with me.

In which way?

I know that I am enamored with you.

And I know in which way, too.

But this word,

This word that so easily slipped off my tongue,

Now catches in my throat.

We are enamored with each other.

But in which way?

What do I see when I look in the mirror?

I am made of measurements.

I measure the space between my thighs,
The width of my arms,
The time since I have last worn my glasses.

I measure my achievements,
The weight of my successes,
The heaviness of my failures.

I measure the sharpness of my jaw,
The veins on my hands
The blue in my eyes.

I measure my intellect,
The depth of my vocabulary,
The numbers on my report card.

I measure humanity,
The accomplishments of others,
The good and evil of society.

I measure myself,
My looks,
My mind,
My intentions,
My actions,
My triumphs,
My shortcomings,
My reputation,
My future,
My past,
Me.

The difference between

Love

and

Infatuation

Is that love is an impossibly bright sky, but it is also the night sky

It is a stormy day, but it is also a sunlit afternoon,

It comes in flavors that we have not yet tasted,

It completes you in its presence and in its absence it is hollow,

Infatuation is the bright blue in the sky, but it is also the darkness of night,

It is the storm itself, and the sun burning above,

Its flavors seem sweet at first but quickly become sour,

It is a perpetual feeling of never enough,

It does not complete you,

But we all must feel it, for love and infatuation are often confused,

But I assure you,

The mask infatuation wears is not love.

Hello, good boy.

I remember how you always listened.
You held my secrets close.
I told you the twisted words that rolled off my tongue,
And you never flinched.

I remember how you always heard.
You were a diligent friend.
I taught you about the planets, the Earth, the stars,
And you never left.

I remember how you took your time.
You never were too quick.
I hurried you sometimes, restlessly waiting,
And you were always patient.

I remember how you showed your power.
You knew when to choose your battles.
I smiled at you, the second-in-command,
And you ruled kindly.

I remember how your wise soul showed,
Your eyes never hid it.
I was always transfixed, trying to find out who you’d been,
And you told me you were simply... here.

I remember how I read to you.
You always seemed embarassed,
I spoke the word of fables gone, your herd gathered round to hear,
And you casually stood apart.

I remember how I failed you.
You unceasingly forgave me.
I messed things up, I was angry with you,
And you always showed me it was okay.

I remember how I cried to you,
You always let me do it.
I did not succeed, I learned atrocities,
And you brought me endless comfort.

I remember how we struggled together,
You always gave 110%.
I didn’t always believe it; I gave less myself,
And you never stopped trying.

I remember how we were imperfect,
We both failed at times.
I lost confidence, you misstepped,
And we always worked past it.

I remember how my memory fades,
I still cannot express you.
I try to grasp what little I have,
But you transcend words.

and here comes the rain
        
        it
        
drips
        down

the
       petals

leaving the damp contrails of its journey behind

       falling

ever
      so

slowly
        
almost achingly so
    
     it

still
     brings

life
    to

all
    it

touches

and despite the teary-eyed greenery it leaves behind

it makes the whole world

beautiful

I                                          enough.
  don’t                        good
          care              are
                for     you
                    now

Here I sit, trapped in a tunnel

Or maybe I am walking, prodded unkindly by the hands of those behind me,

Pulled forward by the wrists of those who came before,

Stuck in a game of tug-of-war where I hope to resist but I can only give in,

I fear that I will never win,

And the end of this tunnel is so far away,

I do not know if I can make it another day.

So here I sit, trapped in my tunnel.

I am tired.
I am tired of being force-fed lullabies
By those who have forgotten how to sing them.
I feel as though I am immune
But what do I know?

I am tired.
I am tired of those who long to sleep being kept awake
By those who close their eyes easily every night.
They feel as thought they can carry on
But what do they know?

I am tired.
I am tired of wanting to protect those whose eyes are pink with exhaustion
But discovering that I, too, am wiping the sleep from my eyes.
They tell me I lie
But what do they know?

I am tired.
I am tired of saying that I will change,
That I will pull the blanket over those who have had it ripped from their grasp,
That I will sing the lullabies that have gone unsung for far too long,
That I will stay awake while others finally get the chance to sleep.
I tell myself I am wrong
But what do I know?