Chicago cold -
Your pale skin smooth
Goosebumps as you look
Through your camera lens
Tall buildings and scenic nights
I said goodbye and don't
Expect to see you again

Let's play with form and
Have conversations about
Composition - I don't know
The colors and you don't
Know the structure - We
Can work together - We
Can work on this tonight

Cinematic moments -
Where the music swells just
As we ride down the hill
Across that bridge - all the stringed
Instruments are screaming as we
See the skyline, but
Skylines always remind me of you

So we stare at the rope dragging
Behind the truck in front of us
Watch as it sways when
We round the curves
It is probably burning hot and
Has been rubbed completely smooth

Black text on
White walls
And perfectly square
Collages in soft matte
Black frames it
Is a soft light that
Makes this room appear
Darker than it is
But you are standing
Barefoot in the center
Of that richly patterned
Rug and smiling like
You want me to
Dance with you
And get ****** up and
Be part of your world

I just can't honestly believe that
I will ever say yes to that again

So I won't try on your
Stack of hats or flip
Through all those books
In the corner
I will talk to you and touch
You and laugh but I
Will not listen to that album
Later I will not be watching
That movie you suggested

I believe in poetry as it pertains to
Memory, Emotion, and Its ability to Capture.
It is not a loaded gun or a ticking twist of wires.
But a camera built from sounds that
Make up not just what was where but
Why what wanted,
Who what was,
What we were.

It may be used for messy outlines but
Colors are too monotonous to read so
Descriptive, natural imagery
Is just masturbatory wordplay.

Even this is not a poem but
A wrongly worded essay on
connections
I have made and will not believe again
As soon as I see
Crumpled,
Dried Leaves
Skating across the street
And reach for my pen.

2.5%
Precision and constants.
These words are 2 colors
And create something bigger.
The sword from that novel is
Still lost in a riverbed because
He did not need it.
We will touch feet and
Sing songs of unashamed
Laughter while learning to
Share what should
Only be private.
We taste trickles of
Fire.
We lick lips to stay warm.
We move together in silence,
And break rules.
To see would be too much.
Don't mention the brushtrokes
Because details are not relevant,
Here.
We don't need to see the fine
Points where the texture exists,
Just the shape of the figure.
The balance.
The rush.
Angry reds and the reason
For patterns to exist.
We can learn from the promise
Of learning too much.
The spray of gravel from
Tires. The way exahust
Fills the air.
We get lost in the smell
But stay together here.

You know it always makes sense but
Then the timing is convenient I
Don't know if it's indifference,
Escape, or shame, but it makes
Me cheap - and confused

Does it cause you stress - or anxiety?
Why do you say those specific words?
You are opaque and if I
Could I would heat you and stretch
You thin as lace
So everything inside is spaced
Evenly across the surface
And then settle down in a
Comfy place to read you in
Your unabridged entirety

Stories are more than just action
Interesting events and twists
But how we respond and how
They affect the characters moving
Through a world
We believe in

There is balance - give and take
But I have never enjoyed the negative space
I have fought silence
For as long as I can remember
And distance
I could stand to learn from

In the meantime I'll crave the ribbon of you
Etched lightly with the words that
Never made it out when you
Were here
Just trying to talk
I could absorb you into me and
Finally understand everything
That I've missed

There is a stack of pictures that I keep for my records
So that I won't forget a few things about you.
This is you when you were happy.
When you stopped hurting
Your eyes closed from smiling big.
This is you when you were little.
Fingers wrapped in the hem of your dress
Twirling and being a princess.
This is us when I was younger.
I used to hurt you back then but
You stilled grinned at me sheepishly.

Despite everything - I still know you.
Our complex interactions are exhausting to navigate
Because
You set rules and
Then break every one
You are indecisive and
Inconsistent and
Loud - unpredictable.
Sometimes you kiss me and sometimes you scream.
I can't tell when to duck or brace because
When you hit me I never see it coming.

I called you a whirlwind once and there
Is a tightly protected secret in the center
That I know I shouldn't tell:
You keep your innocence there.
Wrapped in the claws and chaos is
The little girl you used to be.
If you don't let anyone in to
Comfort her she will scratch the paint
Off the walls of your studio apartment
While she whispers hatred and fear
Into your ears.
She will destroy you for leaving her alone.
She has already started and
No matter what you take she will
**** you before you can **** her.

Tell me how the critical man
of me can reach the flawed conclusions
of causality in the face of
limited distractions.

Could the very nature of
my reckless search for entropy
make me
burn lean
when there is not enough
conflict for character resolution
and the consequent freedom.

They say that each new draft of
A poem is a new poem all to itself.
I would prefer to believe in revision
over reinvention
But I have never believed in
Incompletion -
If you are in you should be raising the stakes.

I withdraw sometimes to think about
Fear and luck or my dislike
Of accidental rhyming.
I have learned so much but
The curve will flatten.
I will be bored soon and manic
To make something happen.

"The problem is rarely that things are too hard,
Just that they are hard in ways that we don't expect them to be"

I don't like the way that he cheapened you
And sometimes it still makes me sad to
Imagine you in the middle of nowhere
North Carolina without bright city lights
Reflected in your eyes.

To be honest,
The things I was so sure about
Back then
Just aren't so constant anymore.
If I changed then I'm sure you can too.
I still miss the meter of your lips - the
Slant rhyme of your wrists and the
Symbolism of this.

You are a new poem now - maybe
You don't need that anymore.
I hope that you changed for
The first time in your life -
I hope you don't think you've made a mistake.
I hope that you still think of me
Because I still think about you.

I want you to be happy but I
Don't know that you are
Right now.