I close my eyes
And gently trace
A finger on my lips
Vivid memories awaken
With a sigh,
And lazily eclipse
All reality
Now it's you and me,
My senses in your grip
Intoxicated, electrified by
Your finger on my lips

Writing about him
Is an addiction
That I convince myself
Is in remission,
But my heart knowingly
Sees through the deception.

Writing about him
Is an undying compulsion,
Just like loving him is.

The person that I have grown into today
Did not get there by chance, no way
I am who I am partly because of you
And you are You because of me, too.

The changes I see
and what I have learned about me
are a response to how we affected our lives
and what we discover in each others eyes.

Our feelings might be different a year from now
But you are part of me forever somehow.
A part of me will always be you
and a part of you will always be me.

I will never forget you
For my love is honest and true....

When she asked a question
“Are you with me out of need, or choice?"
As he looked into her eyes,
He fought with fate and truth and lies,
And seeking answers deep within,
He wondered if he could begin,
And so the moment paused until
He felt his life was standing still.
And when at last the clock moved on,
And eye to eye began to speak,
As a single fear ran down her cheek,
He told her what he thought she knew,
“It’s my choice, to be here, with you.”
He continued ....
"I’m here and I will stand by you,
Each hill you have to climb.
So take my hand lets face the world,
Live one day at a time.
because it's only for a Lifetime
That I'm trapped in Love with you."
  A long pause ...
and nothing was left unanswered.

All you have to do is be a man.
These words bled through my veins with disgust.

A man he said, does not smile
The flat line of his lips laid across the lower half of his face and read empty.
Shocked I was, when he told me that a man does not find joy in little things.
The leather skin palms that have seen more death than life.

A man he said, does not clean
A brain in his head, full of reasons why he can never show affection.
My arms wanting to do nothing more than wrap them around him.
Love may not be the answer to everything

A man he said, will never back down
His eyes burned, when I backed down
The ocean between will never be filled.
May the waves of tomorrow be ever calm.

As our callused palms met in between the peace treaty we signed in our heads,
The muscles in his face relaxed.
Not one more word was said.
His presence stands over me like an angry sun.

Burnt and shriveled.
I shall return home.

I wanna be all tangled in with you tonight.
All legs and arms and lips, tangled.
Heart strings, mirth and eyes locked.
Tangled.
Days unfolding and replayed in pillow talk.
Tangled-
Fingers into one another's,
in the hair,- hair tangled too, yet

In all these tangled knots
We twist and pull- tangled.
Gets tighter, closer and impossible.
Tangled,
We will never be undone.
Tangled.

Take a look
What do you see?
Maybe cross your eyes
Then look more closely
Do you see what I've been portraying?
Has your view
Been askew
So now you see more clearly?
Has my visage and form
Come together now?
I've been this all along
Although, I don't know how
Perhaps try again later
When your mind has had a rest
It not something worth seeing
When my confidence chooses to digress.
It's easier to ignore
When I make a fool of myself
You see the tattered humor
But not much else
A smile
A joke
A laugh
A hoax
A false account
Of what you describe
Because I'm someone less funny
Behind my own eyes.
I ****
I choke
I scream
And provoke
I use
I abuse
I tend to seem gentle
But I fake that too
The illusion is
I act just like you
Between the folds
Of good intention
And generosity
Is something else lurking
Less able to act empathetically
My friends can be counted
On fewer fingers than foes
But I have but two hands
And that's the way it goes
A pillar of control
But addicted to addiction
I love to touch bodies
But secretly hate the friction
And now you stare like I've nothing to show
My optical illusion
Like I would want you to know
The thrill inside if me grows
Of taking and ******
Your opinion that clearly shows
And it all thanks to you
I suppose
When you said fake it till I make it
I embody clear responsibility
But look closer
I'm full of ****

I create poetry
by the car crashed juxtaposition
of thought and language.

I create poetry via metaphor,
metonymy, a slight wit.

I create poetry by the
beating and bastardization
of word until the line
breaks just right.
It never truly does.

You create poetry
in your every movement.

You create poetry in the
interaction and absolution
you carry within every waking
moment.

You create poetry only
by opening your beautiful
eyes each morning as
the sun rises eagerly
to see you.

You create poetry.

This, my pale
imitation.