We danced on the cliff you and I. Born of love and light. Bred of sadness and darkness. Melted together, alone but alive. Our love smelled of the earth and of the chalk and the timelessness of it all. And I think now of all the lovers who have stood where we stood. Of all of the stories of love and loss that have roots in the chalk beneath our feet, above our heads held close together preserving our perfect quiet world. I wonder how many arms clung tight to each other against the future stretching out like the channel before us. And I wonder about the thousands of years these cliffs have been stage to the greatest dramas of so many lives. Were any of them as torn as I was? Does my misery, my sadness, my loss and confusion mingle with theirs now? Is my heartbreak their company in the mist? How many of them had to watch the love of their life disappear into the English fog like I had to watch you go? I yearn for that love. For the power of it. I ache for it to fill me once more like the sea salt and mist that settles over, I strive for the way it felt when you stood next to me in Dover.

You stood there by the window
With a shroud of glossy light.
You spoke of joy and jubilation, of misery and woe.
Your lovely face a breath-defying sight.
I wanted so bad to hold you
Like a petal holds the dew.
And for the first time in a long time,
I ached to know it all.
Every story, every mission, every crime.
You appeared at once so giant and so small.
I ache with your passion and your allure.
You make me feel so full,
this time there may be no cure.
Maybe your kisses can remove the wool.
That has for so long covered my eyes.
So here I am my darling, dreading our goodbyes.
Reliving every moment that flew.
Absolutely crazy about you.

Do it! the devil cries.
He looks me right in the eyes.
My mind begins to twist around gentle sighs.
I watch you move and I feel my hunger rise.
I yearn for you, my desire, my prize.
I feel my breath shorten, the tremble in my thighs.
My better judgment dies.
My needs are wrapped in a clever guise.
I am calm and sweet, and these aren't lies,
they are my last attempts at salvation before my demise.
I turn my eyes to the skies,
hearing the angel on my right begin to chastise.
Be still my devil replies.
I cannot tell if I am being foolish and unwise,
or if this is life at its best in a dangerous disguise.
I suppose for now it remains a surprise.
I bite my lip hard, sliding my hand over the butterflies,
as I begin to fantasize.
Hanging on your every word because I love what it implies.
Now it is a fight against the sunrise,
as bodies harmonize.

I wish I could paint it black.
And send it back.
Declare it dead and gone.
Time of death, three thirty in the morning
Cause of death? Your love turned on.
Instead, you wake me with a warning.

I have only felt love once before.
It wasn't hot, or fiery, or yearning.
Like everyone swore.
It was a gentle education, a succulent learning.

So when you tell me to be careful.
That you may not fall my way,
Your hammering my doubts into my skull.
Even if that's not what you meant to say...

Just let the light turn on.
Don't ruminate on what if's darling.  
Because I promise my touch is not a con.
One look at you and my heart takes wing.

Just let us be.
Let us grow.
Can we just agree
Not too go too fast...or too slow?

He loved the way she smelled,
and that she sprayed her perfume right before bed,
so that he could smell it as he drifted off.

He loved the way she gave him her sardonic playful scoff,
when he did something silly, because although she hated it,
she loved it so much she couldn't contain it.

He loved when she walked through history her fires were lit.
Because her passion always intrigued him,
it made perfect sense within her soul, making her eyes bright.

He loved the way she held him tight,
when she was scared, or happy, or hiding from the light.
Because she was so strong yet sometimes her heart she would bare.

He loved the way she ran her fingers through her hair,
and wiggled her waist when she was pleased.
She didn't even know she did it, she was just so at ease.

He loved the way she squeaked when she let out a sneeze,
such a fragile noise for a spirit that was so tough.
Such a contradiction his little, soiled dove.

He could not have been more in love,
with all of these things she does,
no matter what kind of ordeals....

Or at least...that is what she hopes he feels....

I was born for going.
I was made for flying.
I was destined to run.
I was designed to explore.
but now, at the final hour,
I find I want a bit more.

I find myself quite stuck there.
In your perfect flawless smile.
The shores of tomorrow are calling
but my feet keep stalling.
Working for one more minute
to hear your soul, to learn your mind.
Because I keep falling into your words.

Here I am, the flight risk
the born to be a bird
born to freedoms call
but staring at my phone waiting for yours.
Lingering on the beauty in the word
You.

You are beautiful
Sometimes I think you are the only thing
that could tempt me off my path
even though I know you would never do that
My heart and mind fight with a passionate wrath
Go Go Go she shouts
but HIM HIM HIM she yells

He's gone I think
but, my heart says,
sixty days to twilight
and I intend to fight.

It was years ago when I noticed it,
the falling of the sands.
I brushed them off my shoulders
but there is always one grain that sticks where it lands.
I tried my best to ignore it
but now its a ******* torrent.
I can't move
I can't breath
My hands beat against the glass
Because
There you are
Standing in your own ticking prison
So at peace so at ease
so self assured, just notice me please
Of course I meet you now
but instead of admitting defeat,
and surrendering to our time that fleets
Im asking how
how can I get to you
how can I make you see
how can I tell if your eyes ever linger on me
if your mind ever wanders to my side
If when you see me your heart calls.  
What I wouldn't give to break these walls
to shake off the sands of time
to hold you hear you say "You're mine"
Just see me
hear me  
stay with me
say you want it too
that maybe between me and you...
we can commit a beautiful crime
and shatter time.

I don't know if you will ever read this,
but I'll leave it here in case you do.

I'm sorry I could not bring myself to answer you.
When you called, I could not come back.
There was too much said, not enough done, and yet nothing we could do.

But because of you I now know all the things I lack.
You recited them almost daily like a mantra I could not compete with.
No amount of perfect, no amount of coffee in the mornings, could save me from your attack.

I tried my best to be the ship that you need.
To bring in you in from open ocean,
but now I see the signs I couldn't read.

I love you until I die I promise you this,
but I can't be the one who saves you.
There is no magic kiss.

I see now that the love I need is stable.
I see now the work you have to do.
I see the help you need and I know I will never be able.

I still hope that one day you will see,
see the wonderful amazing human you can be.
If you just seek the truth and stop demanding others take the blame.
If you don't your loves will keep coming up lame.

For now you need someone who can care for you,
but never question you.
And that, my darling, is just not something I can do.
I cannot be your lover,
when what you're asking me to be is your mother.

I still find myself pausing each morning at my front door.
Hoping there will come a knock.
That you finally realized what all my words were for.
But I don't know what that would change,
unless your mind you can rearrange.

I love you honey.
But life has always been sickly funny.
That I should end up here, where my saga began.
And you sit in our nest, the place from where I ran.

I imagine you all alone, talking to my ghost.
And it brings me to my knees every time.
There is no victory here for me to boast.
Just another steep mountain for me to climb.

I beg you to think of all the things I have said.
To not let your heart lose to your head.
Forever and almost always,
eu te amo.

Come home when you are heartbroken
And please god let me be your home
I will never lock the door on you
This heart of mine will always be warm, wherever I may roam.
No matter how many times you've hurt me
Or how many times I've screamed
No matter how many times we lied and cursed and sent each other packing, with your toothbrush and my comb.
Come home when you are heartbroken
And please god let me be your home.

I fell in love today.
With a man I'd never met.
He had a power over me, what can I say?
Oh, he's a hero, don't you fret.
He is tall, and witty, and debonaire.
He saved me from the bandits with his flashing swordplay.
All the while the sun glinting on his hair.
Then he took me back to his castle on page 109.
When he crowned me there was so much applause the walls shook!
I cannot wait to see what happens on the next line,
because my lover and I are one on the pages of this book.
One of the many realities I have escaped to in my time.
Reading, a pleasant distraction that cultivates ones mind.
It is so deliciously good, pleasure at its prime.
The characters I've met have taught me how to love and hate, how to be cruel and to be kind.
I have won battles, and lost friends.
I have made love with Vikings, and danced with mermaids.
And it almost always makes me weep when a book ends.
Then it's back to the bookstore on one of my story raids.
I can't wait to slip between the pages.
The ink to my mind like silk to my skin.
There I will meet heroines, criminals, and sages.
Between each set of covers a new life will begin.
Flip the pages and inhale the drug.
the fine biblichor that sends my head spinning.
A fine way at the end of the day to unplug.
A new book, the best way to get me grinning.

Whisper it to me when you hold me tight
somewhere between the pillows and the dawning light.
When my worries are languid and spent.
While I curl around you euphoric and content.
Hide it in the melodies we send to fill the vacant night.  
Promise me no more days of suspicion and spite.
Let every word between us leave us feeling satisfied.
Let me drink from your voice, a well that never dried.
Wrap me in it softly and bury the remaining fight.
Let me taste it in your kisses and feel it in your bite.
If you must leave me, leave me in this bliss.
Always leaving time for one last kiss.
Spill it across my skin like ink, always in sight.
Let me hear it growl in the engine you ignite,
blazing and flashing bright.
And when I'm out of arms reach,
I hope I hear it in the wind the batters this northern beach.
Pour it on my soul and watch the passions you incite.
Tell me it is okay to give in to this tonight.
Tell me I am not alone in this delight and then
tell me one more time how we just feel right.

I tried to run away to a far away land,
where the grass was greener,
and the responsibilities leaner.
I ran from the ghosts,
I ran to foggy coasts.
I ran from the memories.
I ran from our mistakes.
I wanted a new me, whatever it takes.
But life, as she often does, had a different plan in mind.
Now I have to say I'm a little less blind.
I have discovered my god,
no not the one you're thinking of.
I found "it" in the history here.
I connected to souls I now hold dear.
I found solace in the here-after in the stones of cathedrals.
I found hope in stone glass windows.
I found peace in battlefields.
I also found pain.
It poured down like rain.
It took my breath away,
trying my best to keep the night at bay.
I no longer fear the ghosts back there.
I fear being stuck in the metaphorical here.
I've now been unwanted,
seen a love be haunted.
I've finally stood up for myself.
Even if they think I have totally fallen off the shelf.
I have embraced my flaws,
finding the power in their claws.
I have gained respect for those waiting for me.
I have learned a new definition of free.
I learned it isn't in the lack of responsibility
but in my magnificent ability.
I find freedom in the doing,
in the dream I'm pursuing.
Here I am.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of running.
Flying home.

She has been burnt and scarred.
From long days in purple mountain sun.
There are scars from battles I've won.
There are lines from where it has been marred.
I trace the precious lines of my many tattoos.
My ink, my story, my battle paint.
I suppose they don't really tell the story of a saint.
Then there are the bruises of beautiful blacks and blues.
Earned from long hard days at work and play.
She has stretched over heartbreaks and Thanksgiving dinners.
But these curves aren't for beginners.
Only the bold can travel on this carnal highway.
I have been both proud and ashamed of her.
She has been poked, prodded and grabbed.
She has been caressed and stabbed.
She isn't for some amateur.
I have hated and adored this temple I am in
She has been strong and weak.
She has been radiant and bleak.
But I am proud of this skin.