Runaway with me into
the forest. I heard the trees
breathe out the sweetest kind
of poetries. The leaves fall
down flawlessly. Take
my hand love and run away
with me. Hold my hips and
kiss my lips and dance through
the night as the moonlight
shines down on us. I'll whisper
stories into your mouth. We
can even build ourselves a
little house. Adjust the pretty
forest leaves in my hair. Tell
me i'm made of a collection of
gorgeous human cells. While you
caress my flesh , as I strip off my
dark plum coloured dress maybe
that will help lessen our stress. Now
hold still darling and enjoy this heavenly kiss*  ~

Raindrops fall on the roof
the way your hands touch my skin.
Your fingertips, light and dragging,
become more insistent,
speaking of the storm about to come.
I feel your palms
heavy on my shoulders.
The tiny hairs on my nape
stand straight up
in response to your thumbs.
Your lips and tongue taste
the one vertebrae
that sticks out at the base of my neck
soft as wind through the grass,
but my insides quiver
through the thunder you create.
When your hands come around to my sides
my stomach shivers,
rippling because your nails tickle
before they dig into my curves.
I gasp through the sensation,
unable to otherwise move with my body in shock.
Tingling pleasure courses up and down beneath my skin
my body as charged as the air
when the clouds have rolled in
but the lightning has yet to strike.

I can’t sleep on my side
because the moment my ear
hits the pillow, my heartbeat
hits my head
and an image hits the backs
of my eyes,
of you talking about lies
and absently stroking your thumb
across your wrist,
feeling for your pulse
like a child searches the skies
for a wish,
reminding yourself that you
are alive.

your heartbeat is the shooting star
and mine is the emptiness it left
behind.

I can’t sleep on my side
because existing gives no breaks
and my heartbeat
and your far-off hand
make me so tired that I
stay awake.

When you're old, weary,
forgetful and dreary,
your grandchild will sit on your lap,
And insists you narrate your story,
before he goes for a nap.
Perch that kid atop your knee,
and tell him your delightful story.

Tell him how you studied biology,
And the science of the body,
And the wonders of economics,
And how to make accounts tally,
Bore him silly with math rules,
And crap you picked up in schools,
how algebra helped you land a job,
And physics helped you convince a mob,
On your first date,
You dined with your certificate ,
And all those sums in calculus,
Helped you during your first kiss,
How law helped you win your wife,
And grammar stopped you from taking your life,
when your spouse and you fought,
accounting rules sorted it out,
Tell him when down on your knees,
You were uplifted by degrees,
When overcome with emotions,
You narrated equations,
Tell him when nights got colder,
Geography gave you its shoulder,
Tell him medicine cures all aches
Including the vacuum of heartbreaks,
And when you're dead in your grave,
And flesh is turning to bone,
While placing flowers at your tombstone,
The Income tax laws will mourn.

I shut my eyes
and all i see is
me kissing you ,
while we're wearing
different shades
of dark blue* ~

stoic, solid
stolid and bolder
made colder the soldier-
death's hand on his shoulder
and eyes the color
of green flies.

r ~ 8/19/14

How I adore your nerve
when you kissed me in your closet upon sheets made of legos
and all of your childhood dreams.
How easy I am for you to draw when you play on stage the song that you wrote me,
The one that feels like rock climbing by the river,
Like naps in the summer when I drool on your chest and you don't mind,
Like kissing you until the very last minute of my curfew,
only to break it for the miracle that is your lips.
How alluring is your breath on my neck,
Your voice in my ear when you told me that you loved me
and you didn't stop smiling,
even as the years went by and I did.
How I craved, longed, begged for time to be still
the time you took me to the highest hill you could drive to,
You called it my mountain.
"At first, you look at it and it's so small,
but once you notice it, it's all you can see," you said.
How my stomach floods with waves of nostalgia and a taste
of everything I've ever had to live without,
With complete and utter spell-binded devotion at the simple familiarity
of your smell.
How addicted I am to your laugh when you're happy and
the mastered impression you do of your mom.
How weak I am to your intellect and your appreciation of literature
and real music,
Your enthusiasm for art and the "name that note" game you force upon me
as you stumble onto the classical radio station.
How in love I am with your romance that is as childish as my attachment
to my baby blankie and my mother's childhood walrus that you never ceased to insult.
Our pajama day that we decided over our prom,
When we turned on John Mayer and slow danced in your room.
Your idea of a date consisted of fake wine and me.
How incredibly warm are the coldest of nights,
On the side of your dirt road as we lie in the snow that is too cold for comfort,
yet holds us there with the fear that one day will not look the same as this one
and I would bear any amount of cold winter to keep one more moment of yours.
How I cherish the way you latch my pinky with yours when we walk
And the face you don't know you make when you play guitar.
The rooftop where you kissed me for the very first time and the string rings
we wore to remind each other we were still there.
How incredibly and unfortunately devout I am to all that I remember of you.