My face lit up so bright when I saw my notifications.
I am not ashamed to admit how excited I was.
Definitely worth the wait.
The music chiming a song that reminds me of you.
That absolute feel good song you hope plays in anticipation.
The wait of reply.
Rewinding the moments back to when I first heard my notification go off again and again.
You really know how to reach into me and pull out the biggest kid.
Driving myself insane waiting on my phone to chime in.
No one else in my contact list has your ability.
No one else could have the ringtone I set just for you.
On the lowest setting of screen brightness, you fill my screen with all shades of hue.
Sometimes I think it's weird.
Hearing the highs and lows of your voice over text.
Our extreme use of emojis.
Searching for the comfort of each others voice when we can't fall asleep.
Although distance seperates.
I can safely say.
That you've truly made my phone a life line

Almost every day.
Hold your hand close to me.
Post me against the wall and stick pins on all four corners.
Explain whats happening in vivid emotion.
If I've ****** you off black out my eyes.
If you've stored me in your heart cover the space behind me blood red.
There is no need to question the value of if what you feel is real.
Slide my face across bright light in means to cover my face in fashion.
In a variety of back drops and shade.
Smear my face in distorted emotion.
A synthetic hue vibrant and wild.
Color my hair yellow then blue.
Do as you wish.
But by all means don't leave my picture the way it is

You remind me of the color pink.
This morning I saw you and ran away in thought.
I can't keep losing you.
I thought of putting you on my key chain.
Holding on to what's close.
I can't keep losing you.
I value your trust.
A piece of mind each time I look to the sky.
You disappear for hours, reappearing before you lay your head down to rest.
I indulge in thought.
Tucking you into a blanket of clouds.
You make your presence each time I see you.
The thought of putting you on my key chain becomes more enticing.
Just so I'll never lose you.
But God is fair.
Allowing me to see your face before you disappear once more.
You are love.
Painting the perfect picture before you lay your head down to sleep

Through a window I was caught off guard.
I shuttered. Pulling the ***** of my collar against my neck.
I found myself standing still. Chill bumps forming against my skin.
The way she appeared dividing herself all around me.
Disappearing into the ***** of my collar searching the folds of my face.
She despised the way I smoked. Blowing my lighter out each chance she got.
She filled my hands, chasing away all of my bad habits.
Finding a better means to occupy my time.
The impact she left behind

And with one single flicker a warmth was felt.
As it lit and swayed around I swirled in thought.
How can something so small define in mirror image,
what I've tried to say so many times.
I becoming like the wick surrounded by depth.
Lost at sea without so much as a barge to rest my head against.
With you becoming my single barge of refuge.
All thoughts of despair and lack of faith disappeared when I bumped my head against your strength.
The fragrance of the way you soothed without so much as a word.
The city lights never shined as bright. Nor have I had reason to want to stay put until you showed me
how much strength I had in myself.
The barge of clear glass that surrounds us.
Stained by the scars of who we use to be, we constantly sink.
Discovering depth over by the far side of the fire that slowly descends. Devouring the wick.
If ever this fire should burn out shall we truly find out what it is to grieve

My ideal love is a love that catches me by surprise.
The realization of intelligent things and conversations that literally take us anywhere.
My ideal love is a love that expresses ideal.
The ramifications that influence us to be who we really are in front of who we are.
A love that doesn't mind bargin shopping and putting together hundred dollar outfits that really cost $10.
The reality that its the most simplest of things that are most significant.
A spontaneous love that doesn't mind the predictability of living today before exploring the mystery of tomorrow.
Here after the after thought that we exist in the past as well as the present simultaneously.
If ever in need I'll do my best to provide all that I can for an ideal love.
Through these actions I believe the true miracle is achieved.
An ideal love that is beyond ideal.
Who sets the where and how we meet, the institutions of bliss where the masses are limited to love and longing.
To find patience and compassion sitting on the front lawn on the same institution.
As long as she provides a kiss that can send me outside of my own thoughts, and pull me closer to hers.
My ideal love wouldn't be based on a B.E.T movie.
A single expression that summarizes a scorned woman letting go.
A cliff note of lust soon as the next sceen fades to black.
Her ******* pulled down not knowing the dude is secretly abusive.
140 minutes gone by to realize the last 5 mins were the ones that made her truly happy.
The woes of love.
My ideal love is a woman built with ambition but with a heart big enough to understand that without sacrifice nothing is truly accomplished.
A culture made in truth, ripped off by those who ignore that struggle is what makes us who we are.
The courage to walk out in front and be who we really are.
A real woman that doesn't mind lounging around the house that knows whom Budda and Huey Newton was.
This revolution of ideal starts the moment I realize that I never stood a chance.
The surprise of her lips against my cheek.
I drink from this remedy each time you open your lips.
So in silence I gasp.
As you caught me off guard,
My ideal love

Of all the simplest of things.
Sometimes love is a lot like socks.
Some are long, some are short.
Hell some even come up to the height of knees.
Some are bland. Some are colorful.
Baring the fruit of comforting something bare enough to be considered as precious.
These devilish things, socks.
Sometimes they create more problems than they are worth.
Coming apart at the seams,
Getting caught between your toes.
The hassle of constantly having to stop and readjust your shoe when no one is looking.
They come in all sorts of color and sizes, these crazy things called socks.

Sometimes that one size fits all is just a lie.
In time all things wear.
Just don't be foolish enough not to enjoy the comfort of the simplest of things.
This at all isn't important during the height of the day.

But the thought is necessary as it conveys comfort.

A necessity that goes unnoticed unless you've had any of these problems.

Belts on the other hand can be a different hassle. Not fitting tight enough.

The leather hole wearing thin often tearing.

Sometimes these dang things prove more trouble than they are worth. Stupid things.

But out of everything that I've said one thing couldn't be truer.
If ever I was to become overweight.
You'd be the pair of suspenders that hold my pants up when my belt can't fit anymore

In all honesty.
I think what I truly desired was to be put on a plate.
And be devoured piece by piece.
My attention, all my free time.
Everything that no one else could see.
With knife and fork.
T be taken apart and devoured tastefully.
With nothing left except the juice of where I laid.
The tough parts that take time to cut,
Revealed in an instant.
To be desired in mutual attraction, a certain craving.
Covered in salt, pepper, a slice of butter.
All of my interests, my habits.
The anticipation of being sizzled and flipped on a cast iron skillet.
Served fresh on a plate.
A baked potato on the side to bring out the taste.
In all honesty.
I think I'll have a steak

I kissed the pillows of her cheeks.
Covering myself in the blanket of her caress.
While here nothing is heavy.
Maintaining the balance of smiles in the bed of her arms
She doesn't mind my snore, relaxed in complete comfort.
Without a single toss or turn.
The shape of her contoured to the shape of me.
For hours I'd lay here and day dream.
Listening to the sound of the washer hum in the next room.
I've always debated on falling asleep.
Never to wake.
To live the rest of my life as a dream.

This morning I caught the blues.
I stood on the edge of the spoon with nowhere to go.
I tied my shoes and searched for my muse.
There she sat, distance postponing an ooze of stew.
With the end of the ladle short.
The end of the table so far. I sat.
I felt like a schmuck,
sitting on the edge of the spoon.
This hunger pang unfair.
Following me ladle to the tip.
A table clothed in decoration.
I envied the way it loathed.
Laying flat with no idea of what was going on.
It would never know the hunger that ached mid-spoon.
The ingredients that drove this passion.
The smell, the feel of steam that rose from the middle of the bowl.
The meat, the vegetables.
The brew of broth I longed to taste.
This space mid-spoon.
My heart raced in mourning
Standing on the edge of the spoon