have you ever held the sun in your hands sometimes i carry it around in my pockets and forget it’s there sometimes i feel so full of it that i believe in god again what else is there besides the streams of light peeking through magnolia leaves who am i to the baseball shirt to the blazer or the black fishnets or the crooked bottom teeth it doesn’t matter i smell lemon verbena laundry detergent and it’s like time travel i’m in our west hollywood apartment again falling asleep on my right hip sometimes i am forty-two but i am always fourteen do you see me on the page or in the sidewalk cracks i wish i didn’t care but i always do where does it come from the longing the need to be loved by the things that we love i hear a song or read a poem and i’m on my knees i hate being looked at but i’d do anything for you to see me
I do care about your loose hairband that allow your tresses and mantle to flow in the soft breeze, Small ***** of sweat trickle-down from forehead, taking the route of the cheek, And your both hands occupied in books Effort vainly to subdue them-
I sit and watch this battle from our college corridor, Dreaming and fantasizing to be your lover, And leading the army of affection Win this contest of tresses and mantle for you.
I feel he has created this kind of comfort that I’ve always lacked A sense of security without feeling pressured to stay A welcoming rather An invitation to touch his soul
He creates this sense of history that is just developing but feels centuries old He holds me with a strength that goes deeper than the definition in his biceps He smiles with his whole heart that his dimples climb to reach his eyes Which burn with an intensity of crashing waves in the ocean He makes me feel warm. And he's extended the offer of adoration that I willingly accept and give in return.