i'm still in love; despite the occasional madness,
i am in love. even if time opens a cavern beneath
our feet and spreads us thin, i know it'd be best
i try to jump to your side and stagger to cheat
death...

but if fate wills i fall off the edge,
ill face the ground with a sincerity of heart;
not that id resign seeing u again,
but ill wait...

maybe one day ill find a rope
i could climb to see you one more time.

why do i still feel that hanging sadness
from when night falls on our shoulders to coax a "bid farewell"?
a lingering steal-of-thought that cross-stitches
itself in daydream

if i could stretch sunsets
i'd bleed them dry
'til we got tired of purple clouds and orange skies...
id sit through them with you
if only to hold your hand a little longer
before home called back a final time

Is substance abuse that grim:
the instant I use you lights dim
like they want my muse to trim
her figure in darkness--

Blow the candles out with a kiss:
show a dancehall how to fill a floor with
slow hands-and-all antics
while my mind sinks in you--

Take me deep within nirvana:
make me sleep in a hug sauna
maybe I'd keep in mind on a
frigid Friday night--

So bare with me if I overdose:
Be there lines that blow over my nose,
I care not if they slide me into comatose...

The high that is you,
an ingenue but of substance,
a drug to pursue...
**** me with an overdose.

do you know how much my eyes crave a mouthful of that simple smile?
if only video could spell emotions the way your lips do
i wouldnt miss the sight of that grin

but with the way you shoot me with flashes of laughter
im left hungered for a slice of that crescent smile...
and frankly, its a sight that merits a kiss every now and then

small moments weigh heavy as the heartfelt exchanges of the romantic;

the doses of molly he takes repel the bandages from a rose's *****

and vindicate almost every awkward handshake ever pushed as an antic.

although sometimes I wonder whether or not I am merely a chauffeur

or the very passenger sitting beside her--equally clueless where we might end up...

but then again, there are no forbidden silences with her.

the cab ride pesters us with pretty zoetrope views on its window side

and the fare has never been this forgiving for such a distant Shangri-La.

can you hold me at gunpoint for the swift blow of a kiss?
'cause i know that theres no point in the sift-stow of a missed
endearment of a lovecoin with a pith bold while a hys-
teria owns my mind disjoint in a sweet cold euphoria fizz.

today my mates and i passed supper up fourth avenue,
and on the way there
i broke the safe to my stashed uppers of our former rendezvous...

the streetlights and open windows lining the view
felt much more
complete with unbroken handholds coming from you...

t'was then i knew i missed walking the night with no one but you.
perhaps we can get
us let in new tourist walking sites and have some done for two...

i hate being uncertain about certain things
especially so when it's 'em hurtin things
but as a writing frenchman once penned

"Of course I'll hurt you
Of course you'll hurt me
Of course we will hurt each other
But this is the very condition of existence
To become spring means accepting the risk of winter..."

and with all winters
warm rosy summers lie ahead.

When I ask myself whether or not
the puzzle pieces of your mind fit mine,
I don't find myself haphazardly tying a knot
to try and hold some faltering sinews in line:
a shove of very different selves pit taut
by a fraying rope of rosy tongue-tied lies
I might've devised upon many a thought
in trying to assuage some "mild" despise...

I don't feel the need to lie about you
when I consider the likelihood
of the likeness of our lenses...

Our tastes meld together in a complementary recipe
of a quality fondness topped in cherry
(and I quite like their utter lack
of back-and-forth oaken pretenses).

im sorry i say i love you too much.
sometimes the moment
winds itself just a little more such
that the feeling needs my mouth
as a conduit for its expression

but perhaps ill spare my words--
to be thrifty in these exchanges
of uttered affection blurs
not the feeling's existence:
the butterflies are still there,
but shall manifest themselves elsehow,
as hugs and kisses strewn
across the skyline of the ever-forgiving night

surely i wont stop saying i love you...
but the instances i do shall
flaunt a heavier shade of red
once i save such statements
for moments unmet
in vibrance, strength and
their capacity to lend our cheeks
a palette of bright rosy hues.