i have never wanted to be so good to someone.
i could trace the outline of your fingernails onto my faced up palms as we
reached for each other,
slipping my thoughts into your back pocket,
and you'll hold me like a golden locket as
we climbed tree limbs into the heavy august air
to tangle our own until
the light turned us free,
like the spotlight on the faces of my
old high school choir -
my vocal cords were ready to bust at the
seams,
i just wanted to be heard and
you had the finest of skills in listening.
i could talk in miles or
explain in knots,
but the options were endless.
i chose to keep my tongue hidden,
as i feathered my lips on your unforgiven
past, not least but last,
the scars following your
arm.
i could see the matches
that burned
each thought on your elbows,
the love you misplaced
when no one gave you the
thumbs up or the acceptance letter,
that held back and pushed to
your toes.
circulate it,
and pump it through
your bones.
it will destroy the blame and
dispassionate habits,
like the way things hurt
and the anger towards the less than
pleased family who only suffer
because of their reputable
finished paintings might have
some water damage from
the storms.

i want prove that there is good in
the beggars and the pleasers.
there is compassion in the corners
and valleys of the longest of
highways.
it might be a far stretch,
but you gotta believe there's more than
just road signs telling you
where to go
and
people who can't love
anyone other
than themselves.
because even the lost ones
need love, too.