Confession I: I want to be with you, not just around you. I want to lie with you, gently tracing the thoughts from my head into yours. I want to follow where your limbs go, with my lips, like a map or the north star leading me to your most beautiful valleys and mountains. I would collaborate with your collarbone and back to mine, allowing a skin bridge, a focal point, to show how inherently beautiful you are.

Confession II: I want you out of my head, but not out of my life. I have teased myself into a conditioned state, a procedure that no one should ever live through.  I tripped over myself, and then over you, and I just want you the feel some electricity gathered at my fingertips, nose tips, please just kiss me. Kiss me like you would with your bent out of shape, looking for escape, lover. I could show you a thing or two about pleasure and how to love another woman just as much as you could love a man.

Confession III:  I hope to apologize in the kindest manner, see some of your exposure – I’m trying to lift composure out of ten thousand gallons of saltwater.  I know you have collected nothing but bitter – I just want to be sweet to you.

We'll drive
Stare out the window
And sing
to each other
Eat terrible food
and laugh
with one another
Gallivant around antique shops
and dream
of life together.

We'll reach the final destination
throw our suitcases
on the bed of our
cheap motel
and kiss passionately
wherever.

It is as I lay between these sheets,
that my heart realizes your absence.
It feels like calm water under a full moon,
whereas our life is on so many different wavelengths.

It is as I feel the cold next to me,
that I miss the warmth you brought in discussion.
I miss the electricity your glance encased,
because it seems like an endless night.

It is as I touch the silky fabric around me,
that my dull nerve endings are noted.
I realize you always kept me alert for everything,
You kept me on tiptoes.

It is as I lay between these sheets,
that my heart finally realizes
it wants you tangled in these sheets.

A tiny devil lands
on my shoulder;
having no counter-
part, she stands

                               and, as I walk
                               at rabbit's pace
                               to the old place
                               where we used to talk,

                                                          ­          she drags from
                                                            ­        her cigarette,
                                                      ­              flicking it,
                                                             ­       hum-drum.

"He ain't comin',"
she says,
and ashes
on my neck.

                               "Don't need him,"
                               I lie--should lie
                               down to die,
                               but light up instead.

Unconvinced,
she scoffs at me.
"Then what do you need?"
And a dreadful wind

                                             slithers through
                                             the fissure,
                                             icy, bitter.
                                             "I don't need you."

                                                          ­                      The woods, too
                                                             ­                   are dead, like us--
                                                            ­                    a Winter-sheared husk
                                                            ­                    through and through.

You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe I don't.

                                      You'll come, I hope,
                                       leaning over
                                       the grove, or
                                       maybe you won't.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

You know those moments
Where your heart sinks into your
Finger tips and
Seeps from your eyes
And your stomach is thrown
in every direction
Rattling around in your emptiness
In darkness
in cool
wet complacency

Those moments when your mind magnet
Sticks to every minute
Detail
every smirk
and every imperfection
created by the human hand

When
Every anxiety
every foul taste
And putrid smell
Rush through your body all at once

Someday when the door is open
And the sky burns blue,
I’ll see you standing on my beloved dunes
In the spot near the coyote’s den,
Where when I was ten I learned of death
And life,
From the sun bleached remains of a rabbit’s collar bone.

Someday I’ll see you shining in a sunlight
That no shadow can erase.
Joy will be the air around you
And there will be no more pain.
No fear of retribution,
Divine or mundane.
No more death
No more hunger
No more shame.

Someday we’ll start over.
Just you and I
And live the dreams we spun
When we were young.
We’ll have world that isn't crooked on its axis,
A life that isn’t hopeless.
We’ll have our innocence,
Immersed in the warmth of
Pure,
Unadulterated,
Love.

For now I will endure.
Live the existence assigned to me.
I will quietly suffer my share.
But someday,
I’ll meet you there.

I love you because
you are written,
not typed.