Like falling in love
for the first time
all over again.

My heart awakens
with our morning
kiss
My heart opens
with the meeting
of our eyes.

When wrapped
up in your arms
finally home again
and deep inside
an all encompassing sigh.

Our love returns
strong
with the freight train winds
blowing through the pines
ageless as the redwoods
across the expanse
of time
with the intensity
of
the ocean waves
we hear crashing from our bed.

Our love ongoing
our love renewed
our love
my life's blessing
through and through.

Our love a force of nature
a cycle of
sun and moon.
An opening flower
on a spring noon
night blooming Jasmine too.

Each time
we touch
tip to tip
it's like falling in love
for the first time
all over again.

Now you make me feel like talking things out is pointless, and
You proceed to rip away any emotion that I might have
Maybe you like to think that it's meant to be for you, but
I simply can't stand the way you take and give nothing back
And that couldn't be the worst of it
Now, you see, you aren't even here to begin with
You're taking myself away from inside of my head
Your verbal abuse is causing a special type of sickness
And it's probably cliche, but by now I'm so sick of it
But that's still only a fraction of it
Because on top of your voice I hear the others
Not always inside my head, but mostly just in general
The jostling and racket of daily life can keep me rattled
Those same voices push in on me, until I can no longer breathe
Even then, when I manage to breathe
It's only so that I can justify my erratic thoughts and motions
I'm so sorry that I cry and that I run away from situations
And when I say nothing, I'm screaming quietly out of politeness
All in all, I'm holding in my condition so I'm not treated different
Because these days, stigmas breed
And usually, it's out of misinformation or lack of it in general
This lack of awareness by loved ones always seems to upset me
Because I'm taking myself away from inside of my head
And most of you will never know what anxiety really is

If you see her again before I do, tell her the way she left left me shaking like a winter windchime;
the song too frozen to melt on her tongue.
I am scared of all her moving on.
The only serious love poems I write are about the same person who hides God in her hair and shows me the lingerie she bought while I try to unfog my glasses to look at her straight.
I am too convinced that she is made up of lines that lead straight to my firework skin. There has been too many explosions here.
The only way to deal with missing you is to tell you and wait and see if you feel the same. Or novacane.
I imagine you taste like an acid trip... all conspiracy theories and sugary words too sober to ever speak.
If you see her again before I do, tell her that I am a mess without her.  That my mind only settles with her tear-stained cheeks and the only way I can see the ocean in the winter in Canada is to look into her eyes.
I am scared that I am being overdramatic.
I want to rub our wrists together so we can trade scars.
Tell me the story of how you met your best friend and I'll tell you the story of how I fell out of loving my mother.
I would rather listen to you ramble than check the time.
If you see her again before I do, tell her that on the way home from her arms I counted 1200 streetlamps, 13 lovers, 3 liquor stores and 72 shakes of my knees.
Tell her I miss her like Frances misses Kurt.  Like dive bars miss blues music.
When I see you again, lover, I'll tell you that when you told me your name two years ago, I was surprised that it wasn't Love.