I want you to wrap me in your arms.
Hands intertwined.
Skin against skin.
Play with my hair.
Sing me a song.
Read me a poem.
Let me lay my head against your chest
And fall asleep to the sound of your heart beat.

I find you in the pages of your favorite book
and in the songs we would listen to in your car
I find you in my daily conversations
and in the fading scent of your sweatshirt
but I don't find you here
anywhere next to me
and I don't think people understand
how hard it is
to find your person
in the arms of the sweatshirt
that no longer belongs to them

Someone recently wrote that ‘Love Has No Color’
I disagree:

Love is the deep blue of the ocean
It is the pink of my dog’s tongue
Love is the orchid colors of my daughter’s bedroom
And the blacks my son wears to theater

Love is mocha, pale, ebony, and tan
It is emerald, sapphire, chestnut, and jade
Love is honey and straw, pitch and caramel

Love is cherry blossom walks
It’s painted deserts
It’s shimmering skyscrapers
And the intense greens of triple canopy jungles

Love is the color of your first car
And your girlfriend’s prom dress

Love is stained glass
Bright green Christmas trees
And the Easter dresses
Of the church that you call home

Love is your alma mater’s jerseys
And NOT your rival’s
It’s shimmering fireworks with friends
And the long rays of the sun from a folding chair in the sand

Love is not without color
Love IS colors

Love... is colors

what
does it mean
to
be human
when
we
are ghosts
between
the lines
and
its
hard to explain
that
we
are all
connected instead

Fare well, fair lady.
May the sun be shiny,
and the trees be shady.
I wish for you happiness
Preferably on the daily.

Goodbye my sweet love.
Though you can't ever really leave me.
With you out of state
theres no chance that you'll see me.

Go in peace baby blue.
You know my love is true,
And so of course,
I wish the best for you.
Take care of yourself,
and make lots of friends.
But until that day comes,
That I eagerly await,
This seems to be,
some sort of end.

[again violating my rule never to write in the first-person]

Withdrawal Symptoms

So I’m not going to change the world after all
That’s okay; it was doing fine without me
The moon arose last night without my supervision
This morning the sun was up before I was

And, true, there are bad men and women about
But I didn’t do so very well myself
It’s better that I didn’t change many things
And better had I worked on changing myself

Age is aware of its own absurdity
And wisely it withdraws from messing things up

     A cup of coffee now would be so nice