Must I tell you about her locs,
That dance with the rhythm of her hips,
Watching their twist, and turn – a testament
To the tangled thoughts in every strand, a reflection
Of the tender care she donates upon her hair.

And would I love to keep a lock, and key
To her locs, being a LONG story in itself—
Free, vibrant, and unapologetically bold
The sunlight catches the rich hues of her hair;
Tales of her heritage, struggles, and her triumphs.

I swear, I promise; I must say...
Her locs are the echoes of the laughter
And tears that have shaped her journey.

Would you let the wind pass through you from behind – you blew
out your back! Chasing after your body that looks so instrumental;
it plays that performance in my mind, of what we could do later– and
I guess for us, that’s instrumental. As my skin are these labours; on
the peak of the twelve days I had displayed all my love for you. I was
your Hercules! Falling into your silver shinning eyes, that weighs the
atomic number of love – darling, around you I feel closest to the sun –
I was your Mercury.

There were those murky waters; of questioning when it was best to
tell you I had fallen in love – I didn't want to seem too deep at the
very start; but even in the shallowest of conversations, the depth
of their length, was close enough to make me drown.

But would we both know the taste of love, the more we speak of it,
running the word off our tongues, escaping out of our mouth? I may
mouth you sometimes when you get on my nerves – I say some
things in vain, hoping to give those words their success. But even in
the pain of it all, you still remain the breath under my veins. Without
you, this version of me wouldn’t be the same.

“hey, let’s just try to start it all again”

I know we push each other's button, but together in love, we can
instead, push this reset button.

I shall not come this way again,
I cannot hope to travel on the time I borrow
so I shall seize the chances given me today
and cast away the worries of tomorrow

In between the lines
There's the hint at some opinion
And not just pictures you hang crooked
On flimsy nails you drive.
I'd rather keep the vocabulary
Short & simple,
If there's more from it
Who might be reached
Or that might be derived.

I know you think you're something
Just as much as I,
I know I think you're something
Just as much as I.

If you can't see, you can have mine;
I've already given up on one eye.
If you can't sense it,
I can go on deprived.
To me it makes no difference,
I'm only trying to help.
Come what may, I'll survive.

The words of your denial,
hold similar weight as your prial.

your eyes speak of disfigurement.
holding your breath,
drowning in a purge of repungnance.
The bitterness of your mind,
leaving scars deeper than you intend.
Your eyes, speaking thoughts louder,
than the whispers you spit.

On that hill,
I see you.
Watering a wilting flower,
hoping it comes back.
I trace my hands across your skin,
words of your sorrow,
seeping through your pours.

Your eyes shine, reflecting integrity.
I hold my breath, to discern your pulse,
swimming in the vibrations,
of your fragmented heart.
You smell sweet,
lavender and open book pages.
Looking to close your story,
forgetting the next chapters that lie within.
I dance in your presence,
admiration and replete,
consume my mind.
I see your scars,
kissing them softly.
Your flaws and foibles look different in my eyes.

laying my hand out,
hoping you shoulder my request,
of holding your heart,
in my cushioned hands.
Stitching your scars,
with threads of my love.

Many armed & many mighty,
A congregation of heads
Taking countless different faces.
As like the nine-tailed fox
Or the regenerative hydra,
Like a whisper from a daimon or seraph.
What an elusive cast overseeing this dominion,
In & out there, everywhere.
Those related to physics,
As like inertia & momentum.
To width & to volume.
Time & energy.
The biological & inert systems.
In the scatterings & distributions
And in the combinations & coalescences,
The raindrop to the puddle.
Islands among the sea,
All with some pulse or vibration
And a resonate frequency.
The chain-reactions at lengths which,
By our perspective,
Span seemingly in excession of infinity.
We are flickering candles
Cursed to decipher dripping wax,
Tracking the days of oil left.
We are pollen to by used by the colony
To construct & fortify the hive,
To feed the young.
Who are we to pick the flower
Thinking it will make us blossom?
To eat of the peach, to pick the apple,
But discard the seed
And rob another's potential?
To burn the bush & brush,
Drain the wetlands,
And sow devastation.
Eviction of the natives off their land
After the destruction of their homes.
What is man not, if not an animal?
What is a man, if not an animal?
What then is an animal if there is not some thought which bares resemblance to such a concept?
And if so; since we are made up of that which is organic in nature,
Metallic, and mineral-
It is not outside the realm of possibility
That other such forms of matter
Could indeed be capable.
Without the pretext of plausibility;
Like Eudoxus, in the disparity between
Correctly framing concentric spheres
And mistakenly claiming geocentricism.
It's a big world we know of
And a much larger universe.
Do plants scream
At the pain of a leaf torn?
Do trees look after their neighbors?
Likewise then, there is such constraint,
As like a straight jacket,
In that total adherence
To thought subjugated to concept
Looking for definition & context
Without daring inference or experimentation.
We'll get some things accurate
Even if there are missteps or failures,
But it's imperative we recognize them.
Thumbing around the galaxies
Searching for an answer
To the question of purpose,
But you're right where you stand.
I'm not sure how this started,
Exactly how this began,
And my memory of the journey
Is like that of the end.
If I were a captain,
If I were a white whale.
Cut the nets,
Ditch the harpoons,
Raise anchor,
Break sail.
If I were master,
If I moved to Bremen.
I'd scratch with claws,
Bare teeth & bite,
Kick with hoove,
Give chase & crow.

Were it that I could remember.

I. Autumn came wearing forlorn eyes.
her relief made branches afloat amidst the storm,
yet leaves still fell with memories unmade.

II. Summer came wearing radiant eyes.
her laughter painted tall grasses, rows of  trees and fields of corn.
she smiled so bright sunflowers bloomed,
leaned her way, and mistaken her for sunlight.

III. Spring came yet her eyes remained the same.
although I'd argue, her gaze held winter's weight.
Her lips as tender as the earth kissed after rain,
as her smell sprouted daises in her wake.

IV. Tested by time as seasons unfurled.
throughout autumn's loss, summer's radiance and spring's quiet bloom.
The cold may touch with its chill,
Yet even then,
Winter never came.

Friends to lovers.
Lovers to nothing.

I remember the days you craved hearing my voice on your line.
Obsessed doesn't seem strong enough.
I would answer every time.
Completely gone over you.

But my voice was not enough,
Wasn't long before you needed my time.
My lips, my body, my touch.
I would give it every time.

I'm empty now, I gave it all to you.
Funny, now you don't want it.
Give it back, I need it for someone new.
She deserves this energy, that care.

She needs it, I see it in her stare.

But I think to myself now,
on these many auburn nights,
a year passed,
How lucky I am to have something
to miss amidst the fleeting
haze of life.

A photo I took three summers
ago; a boat immortalised behind glass.
It had reminded me of the careful details
and perfect colours, delicate strings
strung tall into ropes, pen barrels
into hard iron pipes.
  
The photo I took, buried under years,
a drop colliding with the sea,
indistinguishable.
The image is flooded with the fact
that it was never seen as I had intended.

Three summers ago, I looked at it,
and thought of him.
Though it was never shown,
it sits, buried.
Because, this winter, I look at it and
think of him.

How lucky am I, to have loved and lost?
How lucky I am, to have loved.