Winds whipping certainties into,
Tiny hurricanes,
Spinning around every drop of thought she
Disowns, discounts.
This turmoil, the only survival she's ever known,
Keeps her in the air, suspended, ambiguous, beautiful or terrifying?
So she shakes and cries in fear,
Of the day she stops spinning.

Surrounded by biting cold fronts,
Pushed around by sparks of warm relief,
She's a hot mess, sticky, humid, and alive with electric charge.

Her pleas bellowed into thunder,
Static shock breaking her voice,
Into something massively engulfing.
The kind of sound that makes a grown man feel small.

You can feel her coming from miles away.
She knows the weight of her presence better than anyone.
So lonely and heavy is her grief,
So bright and menacing is her capability.

Ironically, just the right balance of
Hot,  
           And cold,
                                 Positivity,
                                                     And negativity,
Swiftly reacting, turning, changing her,
Into this rain ridden,
Angst swollen,
Ferociously complex storm system,
Stealing the heat she can,
Clinging to any energy she once drew on.
Never releasing her festerings.
Standing above a world she cannot touch,
Without destroying.

Surreptitious incitement,
Deliberate grazes,
Salacious gazes,
Languid depravity,
Lazily gnawing at my cravings.

Nudges of adoration,
Filling my concavities of falsehoods.
Seemingly small pensive moments,
Instigating momentous intrigue.

Cavernous aches where your heart should beat against mine.
Brushing against destitution,
While we wrestle involuntary solitude.
Day dreams leave me shamelessly wondering,

For you are abstract,
Asunder,
Yet even quixotically,
You leave me enamored.

Infinite, iridescent ribbons
Spinning out around us.

With every word you let slip,
I dare say I see every hue,
Drifting closer to me,
and you.

They speed up with every second of anticipation,
Wrapping tightly around our skins sensation.

But somehow, these mingling ties,
they cannot bind me.
instead they move us.
A deep blue undertow, your eyes,
washing over my entirety.
Bright hot Scarlett's sweetly pulling us in,
Closing the only gap left between us,
now chest to chest.
white light, tracers at your mouths content.
silver as winters first gasping breath,
shivers as you reach for me again.

Our strings of thought do not break as they should.
Concoctions of enthrall,
tangling, mending, strengthening,
as you move to my hearts rapid beat.

A heart,
Wobbling,
As it takes its first steps.
Can I reach you?

A splintered,
Worn,
Brown door shuts in my face.
A letter written with everything my emotions posses,
Sent back into a cold mail slot.

A light,
A way to you,
Creeps into my wildest illusions.
Shards,
Of glass or ****,
Do they ******* you?

Love,
Do you even know what that is anymore?
Can I even call you a man?

Did you watch,
As they blue in your eyes turned to grey?
Did you feel yourself fading?

I am willing,
To again drown in your eyes.
Are you still there?
Are you anyone anymore?
Can I reach you?

Loosely withheld fascinations,
Glimpses of mindful surrender through the rustic, burnt, glowing-hot-stove, honey-crisp-apple,mommas-pumpkin-pie, milk chocolate, and old-tractor-yellow colors,
Falling around my clouded Monday morning meanderings.

The jack-o-lantern's toothy smiles,
Mock me,
For someone's cut out their heart,
And left them empty,
And they know, I too, will be hollow soon.

A giant maple sheds, slow, sticky, tears,
As he watches a years work fall beneath him.
He fights the seductive slumber,
For he knows he'll dream of sweet spring.
But to him I say, we all wither in the cold.
While he wonders who could love his bare branches.

But he doesn't see his leaves falling, along with tidbits of seasonal nostalgia, being kicked up by frosty winds,
softening my steps, landing in my hair,
Easing us all into our own winters.

i feel you in the flutter in my chest.
         i see you in the ocean, looking back at me.
i can feel your touch,
         in every raindrop that lands in my hair.
when sunlight kisses my face,
       its your smile that warms me.
as the world seems so overwhelming,
       its your unfailing kindness that moves me.
when the undertow of melancholy takes me,
      the pull of your sincerity surfaces me.
when fresh air hits my face,
as the world opens up around me.
all the beauty that has ever been,
exists in the simplicity of this one moment.

you look like every beautiful city I've never seen.
a serene, untouchable bravado masquerading your false pretenses.

your a dark dream i often turn to,
when there's no ups to long days spent feeling down.

you feign compassion with what could almost be called,
an expertly crafted imitation of emotional meandering.

but we know no ends, why?
because my depravity, and your menacing resourcefulness,
somehow compliment in this world we have created,
where distance is its own intimacy,
tangible between our empty hearts.

Foggy, grey, misty mornings like today,
Your eyes, heavy with sleep,
Fluttering,
As the cold air seeps,
Into the spaces in which my body was,
Just a moment prior, perfectly fit to yours.

The first weak slivers of daylight breaking through the weight of nights lingering cover,
A cold wet northern downpour awaiting me,
And all i can imagine ever feeling is this radiating warmth flowing through me,
Starting in my chest as i look to you,
Flaring through my lips as they gently brush yours,
Slowly ebbing away all the rough edges left tearing into me,
Filling me with a want for something i cannot even name...
Its a force, in you,
An inescapable presence in which you hold all of the desparity i own,
But have never once let me bear the weight of alone.

Its good to be young,
In love with lifes possibilities.

Its a wild feeling,
Falling madly into your depth.

Its good to be fearless,
Unfraid in all the best ways.

Its an unending rush,
Wandering our way through tentative touches.

Spitefully contorted prosecutions,
In the form of attachments,
Anchors tied to our ankles,
You know as well as I,
With fear, we wrought them,
Afraid we'd be left to rot without them.
"No man is an island" said someone.
          But we are,
                         Floating,
                                   Weighted,
                                                 Treading,
Storm waters, currents, possibilities,
           Any direction,
           No direction,
           No shorelines,
           No light,
Let alone an end to the tunnels we've dug out,
And lost our souls in.  

In an ocean wide oblivion we reach for the smallest commiserations, you sought my condolences,
Grasping onto me for one steady breath,
And in what looked to you like your grip slipping,
Drowning without meaning,
I saw a slight slip, in a battle,
With a heaviness as ingrained as the need,
To survive,
To swim out to open sea.

But honesty begs me to tell you,
I never was a swimmer,
And I can only loose so much ground,
Before I, myself, start to drown.
Maybe, when your feet next touch,
I won't love in the form of metaphors,

Until then,
I'll see your vastness, raise you a lostness,
And challenge you,  
to a race through everything,
Life can throw in our faces,
                                          To change us,
                                                            Amaz­e us.
And maybe, just maybe,
I'll see you on some sunny day by the water,
Somewhere,
Drifting to me,
Finally in awe of the undertow,
You fought,
                      For so very long.

My hearts a fickle thing,
Jumping to voracious dreams.

But i feel its beating in every cell i am made of,
As i remember the ghostly embodiment,
Of promises, heavy lids, feather soft touches, and kisses that crawl inside you and live in the empty spaces,
In my sleepy wondering,
Where you always find me.

i leave pieces of you where ever i go.
you are my foot prints, you are my shadow.

i still feel you in my chest,
you can still steal my breath.

"I don't like it when beautiful things go away."
I will never forget the way your eyes looked, grazing over every inch of me, stopping at my eyes,
That blue hit me like ice,
But I still felt warm.

I will shake hands with strangers,
and think nothing of it.
Yet when your fingertips brush the softest places on my neck,
I wonder if I really have ever touched anyone at all.

I will look into hundreds of eyes on any given day.
Watch words pour from many different mouths.
None as magnetic as yours.

"You make it so hard to want to leave."

I have never driven home with every single human piece of me feeling like a live wire.
Never, have I felt someone light something so small,
To have it burn through my body like wildfire.
I'm afraid I never will again.