I love listening to you.
In any way possible.
Whether it's big or small.
Sometimes I get lost in not just the words you speak.
But the actions that follow.
I hate interrupting.
Adding on to previous statements.
Until I know that your completely done.
Not wanting to make you feel unappreciated.

My hands following yours in the deepest form of flattery.

Open ended questions that lead to hour after hour of communication.
My fondness for you growing deeper and deeper.
At times I can't help but interrupt.

Our pauses taking a bit longer after each statement.
It's the anticipation that I want you to know.
That I am listening and take to heart what you are saying.
Stretching myself to cover every part of you.

Completely attentive excited that you'd consider my opinion.
To sit back and reflect without jumping to conclusion.
The one thing that I can do to improve myself.
To love you better.
To accept any and every change that may occur.

A safe place where we can do and say anything without being judged.
I love listening to you.
Specifically without interrupting.
Noticing how happy you are being heard.
With the intent of hearing what you are truly saying.
I appreciate you for truly understanding that if I do interrupt
It's truly the sole purpose of how much I care

I don't consider you a friend because of how many times you cross my mind.
Nor because of the times we don't mention.
I don't consider myself in love because of the things we do to each other behind closed doors.

Open doors or in-between doors.
I consider you my equal because of the philosophy we share.
All without making a sound.

The love we have that naturally reacts with a vocal notion of it's own.
We don't have to be around each other to explore the things that aren't said.
A vocal assurance that I do indeed mean what I say.

We are both the ugliest kind of beautiful our laughs being the ice breaker
for all that we share.
The tears elapsed from laughing too hard.

No I don't consider you a friend, or a lover because of how much I'll miss you when your gone.
No I don't want to be near you just because of a single thought.

Nor because of the way you make me feel.
You'll always be with me.
Sharing our ugliest kind of beautiful

Every couple of days.
She comes around.
She claims to not like me.
She looks the other way.
When she needs me
She knows where to find me.
Reaching with open arms.
When no one is around she professes her love.
There is no other.
She breaks my heart.
The start of another week.
She claims to not like me.
She calls late night.
Apologizing for what she's done.
I never felt so bad.
It's coming to an end.
In another couple of days.
Things'll be back the same.
The same old same old.
Both our selfish ways.
She knows where to find me.
I have no clue where she is

Whenever you speak
I listen carefully.
Finding much needed serenity.
Placing myself in our every private conversation.
The way you could read my mind.
Your voice a familiar place in my ear.
Those full brown eyes that stare off in a dream.
Sometimes I wonder what's on your mind.
My wish to hug you as hard as I can.
Your chest against mine, eyes closed in comfort.
When you speak I am in ultimate comfort.
This comfort of just being around you.
All the little things I've missed so much.
Inches away from my nose.
The times we've shared.
The touch of your lips,
The smile of seeing your face.
Bursting into laughter.
Most of the time you keep quiet.
And that's understandable,
Those full brown eyes caught in a dream.
When you do speak.
Every word becomes that much more precious.
I listen intently,
Knowing just inches from my nose.
Is the result of a dream I've had quite often

When I first met you 
I knew you were rich.
not because of worldly possessions.

When I first met you

I fell in love with your richness,
this vast amount of wealth.
Without the arrogance that follows.

Not in compensation for my own.
Not because of how you looked.

What you could afford.

What you wore.
But in how you smiled.

In proportion to what your heart could afford.

The currency you
constantly give for nothing in return.

An abundance of smiles in the places you
could not see before you walked passed

The biggest being,
The smile you put on my face.

The currency you constantly
give for nothing in return

I am a fool,
Waiting for your return
Every time you leave.
I pretend to ignore you.
Sitting here patiently waiting
For you to come back.
The things said that aren't meant.
The way you turn your back,
The last word before storming out the door.
I am a fool.
Leaving the door unlocked.
Waiting for your return.
I should be happy with pretending.
The breath of fresh air that soon misses your face.
I'll be a fool
I'll be a fool to lock the door.
I'll be a fool to call knowing you'd press ignore.
The things said that aren't meant.
The anticipation that waits for that door to open.
Nowhere to go.
I am a fool, standing by the door.
I've run out of things to do.
Waiting on you to come back.
I'll be a fool to ignore what's in plain sight.
I'll be a fool

Asking a question does more than fill open space.
It expresses curiosity.
Devolving into things not easily expressed.
Given our availability.
It expresses a deeper need for connection.
Whether we are open to what we desire most.
Closed off to preference.
 The right time of day or night we can de-clutter.
Taking in what we give out.
Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom.
Or merely because your there.
It expresses a thought that requires action.
That I've thought of you.
That there is a desire laid bare.
An anticipation that builds until the next time
I am able to hear your voice.
For the more serious moments require a deeper tone.
An ear that senses deeper need.
Responding to this deep need of connection.
A need of care.
A need of longing.
To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility.
But in the openness of being

When you hold me.
Hold me like you'll never let go.
Of all the uncertainty in the universe.
I ask that this isn't one of those things.
To melt into your warmth.
If nothing else is certain you've made a difference
in my life.
With a hug so tender.
I've never been so sure of anything.
Your skin pressed against mine.
Our eyes closed tight.
I dare not open them.
Ruining a perfect moment.
When you are in my arms theres no such thing as distance.
Time seems to walk around us.
Without so much as a single word,
Nowhere in particular to be.
These moments like stars, shooting before our eyes.
Accumulating in the pool of our eyes.
Unable to describe the feeling.
You in my arms.
On of the many things I love about you

At the end of the day I can't think of a better place.
A solemn moment.
The clutter of all my favorite things.
I lay uneducated, amassed in comfort.
In lieu of scented furniture.
She's with me where ever I go.

A populous of
Things which I notice, not being home in a while.
Conscious to where I lay my head.
A notion only the homeless truly understand.

A nostalgia of born necessity.
I am ignorant.
Realizing only now.
I needed not wait to feel,
The clutter of all my favorite things.

In the crease of her fingers
Is where she held me.
A history of thought,
Filtered.
Flaked off at the end.
It was her fingers I felt most comfortable.
That I could truly do anything.
Stuck between her middle and pointer finger.
Held high, upright.
Unprecedented in eclipse.
She'd press me to her lips.
Resuscitated.
Flaked at the tip.
Scatter ash
Where I felt most alive.
Nestled in the bend of her fingers.
My building without escape.
She'd set fire to my head.
& like a mad man I'd lay still.
This smoke, a place I wanted to be.
Our bad habit persisting
Day in and day out.
The only fact perhaps we truly have.
I'd unravel in loss of responsibility,
The nook of her fingers,
A universal sense of comfort.
Withered down.
Tossed to the wind.
Our history made short,
Recognizing that we were doomed from the start.
Smoking in front of the no smoking sign,
A habit we can't put down