Your love
Is a blanket that wraps me
And tucks and folds away
Any aches in my body;
I rest my hands
On a cup of tea
And shudder from the cold that is
Extinguished by your touch.
I relax, as heart beats play
A rhythm of warmth
Carried by the sound of
Your breath
That flutters like
hummingbird wings,
Buzzes like
A bee hovering
over a flower which sways
With the morning breeze.
Pollen tickles my ears,
nose, neck
The gold brushing against  
My skin
Ablaze with a fire
From your eyes;
They lure me into a desert
oasis of shade,
Pools of sweat refresh me.
I melt in your arms
Your hands
They draw away
the curtains to reveal
an orange sky.

For every season,
Nothing changes.

Rise!
Rise I say!
Rise with the sun, the eternal fire
of the world's glory,
burning on and spreading
wildly across your face
piercing your eyes,
and yes, piercing
into your soul.
It's breath
exhuming the shadows
that surround you.

I am born of light and color.

I am alive, once again.

And I am reminded of a Power
far Greater than I.
But am I worthy?
Do I have the right
to bask in, let alone,
witness this ascension
this celebration
of such authority?

And because you are generous
Time has painted
An entire symphony for you:

Of dancing ribbons of yellow and orange hues
Of the deep, profound murmurs of the earth
The whispers of the trees
that are carried with
the songs of the wind
and the birds in flight.

Flight---yes, you are flying.

Even starlight
accompanies your path
as you descend into the horizon.

The final note?
You beg to differ.

Rise!
Rise I say!
Rise with the sun, the eternal fire
of the world's glory,
burning on and spreading
wildly across your face
piercing your eyes,
and yes, piercing
into your soul.
It's breath
exhuming the shadows
that surround you.

You are born of light and color.

I do not wish
to remember you
during noon or night
but with daybreak
where you are alive, once again.

I hope you don't mind
I ordered ahead,
One
Slice
Please. And a glass of water.
I already chose that corner, too
My usual spot that's
Cozy, vacant, comforting
as always, I like to lift the plate
To touch my nose as I
Indulge in its rich, moist smell
That already makes me feel
I cheated.
I count the tines of my fork:
One, two, three, four, five -
It's cold
Would I like a cup of coffee?
No thanks, I'm waiting for someone.
My glass is empty,
And because the rain hasn't stopped
Windows and doors are being shut tight
To keep me from knowing
All but this in front of me.

I've paid for what I ordered
So I swallow every bite
A push down my throat is dry.

Hello, Silence. We meet again.

'Talk ***** to me,'
I whisper to you
As the day rubs against our skin.
We'd joke around about
how ripping our shirts would be ****, but never
got around to do it because
the shirts you wore were worth a million bucks.

Then again who knew you'd get worn out.

I breathe in the smell of the detergent you use
too quick that its paper sharp taste cuts me
except I don't bleed.

I patch up the silence between us with scraps
of cloth I found for tomorrow.
A scatter of little flaglets wave shamelessly;
they make fine napkins to wipe away soiled parts of a face.

'Out, ****** spot!'

I pull down a sleeve
I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry;
Home Economics was never my best subject
I don't know how to sew
Back where we came from.

Let me give you a piece of advice:
What doesn't **** you makes you stronger.
Or makes you angry and jealous.

I read somewhere that you need to be careful
about whom you love because it changes how your brain works
...  what?

Hey, I'm just gonna hang around with ...
Yeah, it's a nickname.
I'll just let you know when I'm home.

'...Are we having this conversation again?
The name is _. But I chose to do it.'

'Look I'm sorry... tomorrow's a new day
and I was hoping to see you...'

That's what she said.

Did I tell you that you remind me of -
No really - you are...
No, YOU are!
No, you ARE!!!
... Of course that's something you won't do.

But I'd like to know your experience -
I mean, opinion on the matter.
This is a democracy, after all...

I've never felt this way before.

'Oh, did he say that really?
Tell me - how old is he again that
he knows so much?'

You're right. This is so high school.
But back then, I didn't know you.

So who are you?

Siren calling. Been there, done that. But were you on your way home?

Tonight our breaths
move the sea...toward the shore
...away from you ---  
warms, then cools...

A kiss or two?
from the strokes of seasons across her skin.

Tonight our breaths
are secrets revealed;
then captured, enraptured by the stars.
Be still, you say. We are being watched;
as I press closer to listen
Heartbeats not our own,
(to whom do we belong?)
murmurs deep within the earth,
resound like the fine grains of sand
in an hour glass.

Waves crash!
The salt begins to sting our eyes.
We've left them open, burning --
til the daylight dresses her with gold

All is fair and washed
away, except only ---
could we have lingered longer with the sea?

You
How does it feel
to be writing
the inside-out of you?

To be ripping the pages
of your book
and folding them
into shapes of origami?

To be squeezing out
the ink from those same pages
until you are left
with nothing but outlines
of the words that were
supposed to be.

Or worse---
nothing at all.
____ just ___ spaces.

Start from scratch.

How does it feel
to be able to read you?

To finish your sentences?
To decapitate your
petty attempts to
****** me
provoke me
destroy me?
To make you trip and fall
onewordaftertheother?
To fill in the spaces
of those outlines
of those words
that were supposed to be.

Or simply

CUT.                Y-O-U
                    O-F-F

And make you
sssssstttuuuuuutttteeeerrrr....

And leave you
In-between           these
                     (YOU)
                     lines

STUCK.

Start from scratch.

Are you not frightened
that my hands have
curiously
secretly
slipped into your soul?

To have them digging deep
as if they were immersed
into a bucket of grain
feeling each bit
distinctly cling
to your skin
hearing their awkward murmurs
slowly fade, fade away
as your fingers caress them?

And you drown---I drown
for a brief moment
in the arms of your soul.

How does it feel
to hold me close?

Close enough for you
to write the inside-out of me?

Start from scratch.

How does it feel
to start from scratch?