special to some
an angel to one
millions of stars
yet only one sun

comets do burn
travel fast and burn bright
but the sun is eternal
and so pure is it's light

the love i have for her
is unlike anything i've ever felt
i care more for her than i even do myself
she is so fragile, so weak
yet at the same time
her strength is inspiring
her face is a wonder
her eyes a beautiful, blue hue
i could stare into them forever
for there is no competing view
i love the way her voice sounds
it's so sweet and pure
when she tells me she loves me
when she calls me baby
it is my undoing
i fall in love with her all over again
kissing her soft and supple lips
is my most favorite task
they're plump and pink
her tongue is so sweet
there is something so precious
about her very essence
i can't quite pinpoint what it is
but the more i am with her
the more that i see her
i realize it is because
being precious is inherently part of her
there is no other way for her to be
that's just how she is naturally
i can't believe that she is mine
she is sweeter than the finest dessert wine
if i am completely deserving
i do not know
but i will fight for her always
i will never let her go

Foolish prater, what dost thou
So early at my window do?
Cruel bird, thou’st ta’en away
A dream out of my arms to-day;
A dream that ne’er must equall’d be
By all that waking eyes may see.
Thou this damage to repair
Nothing half so sweet and fair,
Nothing half so good, canst bring,
Tho’ men say thou bring’st the Spring.

You’re the boy who tucked razor blades beneath his tongue
But pointed blame when he tasted nothing but bitter metal
You’re the boy who tied his arms around his tin chest
Because he thought he could hide the missing pieces
Of the heart beating a broken rhythm on his sleeves
And you’re the boy who knocked me down and stole my naked trust
As if I couldn't see where you had carved my name
Into the curve of your smile

Before I knew you
my life was empty and incomplete
there was a hole, a void that seemed to forever go on

the day we met
I felt down and out
nowhere to go
no one to love me
I often cried myself to sleep thinking
I'll never be good enough, pretty enough
smart enough,
those things will never describe me in anyway
but out of nowhere
you lifted my head and said
none of those things were ever good enough to describe me
and good enough they never will be
the day we got together
you made me feel special, wanted, pretty and loved
however, there was still something missing
Then you left me
and I felt as if my whole world died that day
I went back to moping and doubting myself
until I lifted my head
and saw what you saw all along
you could fly the entire time
you just needed the support
although you may feel useless and down
always remember
I believed in you
even when you thought
that you couldn't fly
your wings were always there
you just needed help
finding the wind

The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am,
then I can change.*
Carl Rogers


my hands can be so prosaic
uninterrupted in the mechanism of gestures
mindless, blinded, tired
of polishing the edge of the world

your hands and their delicate shiver
are used to behaving
trying to learn how to grasp the meaning,
the contours of the void in daylight
or why haters hate
(was it your fault or theirs?)

you are an unfinished landscape
of breaking points and hopeless moans,
oases of quietness,  turning points and
electrical paths, buds of mystery
I know nothing about

still, there’s something  teasing
written in between
such is coherence:  a paradox
-two interlocking  unwittingly-
irrational at one level
imaginatively reasonable at another
-reality is framed by negotiation with a god of silence-
two singularities conversing,
filling the air with space  
: it is me⁢ is you
Like when you erase me perfectly
with a blink of an eye
tired or cynical
with yourself,
or when I crush you
like a manic avalanche in
midsummer day

-there is some madness in between-

after all
shame and shamelessness
cannot be understood
in binary codes
while humility and pride
are two faces of the same coin

it’s been written  since day one
this matching choreography of turmoil inside
or just the pursued birth pains of self
-switch, twist, push, turn,
run, hide, split,
break, slip, cut
repeat, repeat, repeat –
the vertigo of life
rhyming imaginary possibilities
new gestures,
new proportions of light
and darkness
in the power of my hands
in the clarity of your voice

we approximate the truth of our last breath
grow old in stories within stories within the story
we tell ourselves to survive the crack of dawn

and so it goes:
the hero decrypting sunset
deepens the story
looking for
some freedom
to be

and I cannot look at you
without
the sonorous light
bearing tenderness
within

I set you free
in my blood
without knowing
if you stay
for today

I watched you write me love notes,
Appreciating the way you loop your y's
And the cursive that looks like graphite smoke
On an untouched canvas

The way you hold your hand is elegant,
Every movement fine, performed with grace
And you mutter what you're writing
Just to make sure it sounds perfect.

Sometimes, you scribe little poems outside the margin
Sweetness dripping like honey off tongues,
Enraptured by your words, spellbound
I'll fall into you