what is the benchmark or minimum
for telling someone, "i love you,"?
how many i miss yous
and i wish you were heres are enough,
even minutes after parting?

whatever the number is, **** it.
because my heart remembers to beat
and even attempts to soar with you
to heights new, unfound, unseen.

where the chittering of nearby birds
is both foreign and kind comfort
in our hands;
where oranges and strawberries grow
in tandem, vine over vine, root over root,
and fall into us, sweet and kind and lovely.

if i were to say it too soon, i'm afraid
i'd lose you, your wit, your smile,
dumb jokes and blazing blue eyes.
and by withholding, i risk combustion,
and an end to it all the same.

i love you.

I try to choose kindness
I try to take deep
breaths
and let my anger wash out

But, my there are wasps in
my brain

there is a buzzing
hot
hot
heat
settled where my neck and head
meet

I swim laps in the pool
I walk the road and back
I hope that maybe I will
make it back
kinder

I walk foot trails with
my son
the leaves casting dappled light on his gold-spun hair
I feel my chest break at the sight
He is so kind but he is mine
will he feel this buzzing

will it lead him to break every day
I try to quiet my voice so
he doesn't learn
to yell

but I never learned quiet.
I am teaching myself. I am learning
He is patient with me
that is not his job

I see the sun on his hair
He jumps on my back in the pool
he giggles and wails
love incarnate

I think I will remember these times most
I will feel nostalgia bathed in dappled gold
when my bones are brittle and old
when I have finally learned
to quiet the buzzing

but will it be too late
will his giggles cease
will his small hands turn into fists
will he become me

I am teaching myself. I am learning.
I hope he is learning too
I hope he is seeing me try, seeing me take deep breaths
seeing me scramble for kindness
kindness!
I thrash against these angry chains and I hope he knows

but
I watched my father thrash his whole life
It is how I knew to try
I still carry his anger in me like
like wasps in my brain

I choose kindness
I take deep breathes
I swim laps and walk trails
I hope that kindness will
chose me back

in moonlight whispers love fills my heart
and glass with wine, and magnifies
my soul to tenderness.

the biting, scraping, lustful pining
for distant and abhorrent truth
is solace in place of reality.

a reality where we address the trauma
of unkind childhoods, bloodied knees,
and chipped teeth.

misunderstandings that follow the gap
in a shortness of breath before an apology.
that remind you that your thoughts
can only love if you do.

and years later you will have some drunken
outpour that darkens the moonlight
and comfort, but makes way
to some otherworldly dawn beyond
the you that reads this now.

in moonlight whispers love fills my heart
and glass with wine, and magnifies
my soul to tenderness.

the biting, scraping, lustful pining
for distant and abhorrent truth
is solace in place of reality.

a reality where we address the trauma
of unkind childhoods, bloodied knees,
and chipped teeth.

misunderstandings that follow the gap
in a shortness of breath before an apology.
that remind you that your thoughts
can only love if you do.

and years later you will have some drunken
outpour that darkens the moonlight
and comfort, but makes way
to some otherworldly dawn beyond
the you that reads this now.

Never did I try to guess,
Or ever pretend to know,
The places you would retreat to,
The places I could never go.

Silent, you would disappear,
And, silent, you'd return.
No questions asked, no trust betrayed,
I simply had to learn.

It never was… personal.
It never was… yours to tell.
It never was…  my place to ask,
It never was, but it’s just as well.

It never passed from between our lips,
Or a friendly, reassuring touch.
“And that's ok”, you told me once.  
“Don’t  be afraid”,  “You worry too much”.

Never did I fault your wishes,
And my loyalty was never a whim.
I never doubted your kind heart,
And never did I falter, my friend.

her words snap me back to reality,
away from supposition and hypotheticals,
into her arms where I feel safe.

blue eyes that pierce whatever darkness
i thought i had and lied to myself about,
eyes that see me for a who I am and who I want to be.

imagine walking down a darkened path,
content in the streetlights that guided
you home, and spotting something small
and kind. whatever it is you imagine,
it beckons you to hold it and when you do,
you smile, truly and impulsively.

that essence is a woman, and one i admire.
someone beatiful, kind, and funny,
including her incessant snoring on
already sleepless nights because a cat is begging for food but you feeling comfort
in their REM cycle. too little space
to be your own, but enough heart to bridge the gap.

imagine, then, that someone places
your hand on their lap when you drive,
but are equally willing to do the same,
in what feels like an equivalent exchange
of heart and sheer goofiness.

and tell yourself it doesn't feel right
that you were able to find home in them,
effortlessly and happily. you won't
and can't, and neither can i.

words can't express that she has been
friend, confidant, and a visual marvel,
and someone i envision as a pillar
of my bright existence.

Inside I rattle like there's lose change in my rib cage
And as a tin man I wonder round waiting to rust.
So she stole some shiny parts
and pried me piece from piece.

She placed my head on her shelf
with a mirror to my side so I'd look at myself
and sang me sweet little lies
'til I opened my eyes.

With each night she spoke to me
she'd tease me with a lit cigarette
so I'd beg her to breath
Smokey life back into me.

Now armed with everything
from hands til torso
I feared the day she'd let me go...
But she'd build me up no more.

On our last day she left
with my feet on the floor
at the end of wide open door
and a note in the hall so I would find her.

A shelf now seemed a cliff
but I fell for her
Scrapping along I picked myself up
And pulled myself together.

With a wobbly walk
I reached her note
"I'm so proud of you..." She wrote
"But now I'm the one who needs building".

On a pile I found my former self
pried it open and saw some change
and used it to buy the paint
that still shields me from the rain.

Wondering round again
a life time later
I'd see a familiar silhouette
I wasn't able to forget.

And brought her head inside...

Your Humour splits the World
and the Universe begins to Laugh.
Your jokes flow like a Fountain
and splits Me into Half.
Your Smile makes Me Quiver,
along My nervous Spine.
It's like the Ripples of a River,
Where the high tide begins at Nine.
Your Beauty is so Beautiful,
It moves My naked Soul.
Your Kindness is so much Loving,
It sewed My broken Heart to Whole.
I was waiting for My Heartbeats,
So I could Dedicate a Poem with Words.
But Words were hard to come by,
So I stole them from the Birds.