If love is matter then it must have three states, so do I believe,

If love is solid then it must be a fruit, how sweet the taste,
We love it,
We eat it,
We want it, we need it,
How delicate, how adorable, every season it comes in new types,
But if not consumed will certainly rot,

If love is a liquid, then it must be water, found everywhere,
We dig wells to find it,
We cook with it,
Bath with it,
How precious the liquid is,
But if left in open will evaporate,

If love is gas,
Then it must be oxygen,
We breathe it,
We can't see it but need it
We know it exist but, can't touch it...

If love is matter then it must have three states, so I do believe,

you drank it all.
alone.

even though there's nothing left
in the bottle,
it is you that feels empty,
transparent,
frail,
like an eggshell that your mother found
in the chicken that your father killed,
that didn't have the chance of the frying pan at least.

you drank it all.
alone.
no Juliet around,
no Shakespeare
no talent,
no tale.

you drank it all.
alone.
no strippers,
no angels,
no thieves!

you drank it all.

some may call it
messianic delusion syndrome,
but I call it..
cheap Chardonnay.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bbz9rIxZJBw

I am made of water

I first learnt it when, at age 13
I dropped a glass of it
And it trickled through my veins
As my father told me he didn’t know why he loved me

After that, every day I was kissed by sunlight
I shimmered
Like a pond lost in a forest of
Thought that no one visited

I used to look at my hands and wonder
Why I could see right through
The sinew
And bone
Into translucent fluid bubbling
Where blood red should be

But whenever someone deigned to hold
My shaking digits, I felt the cold
Of my insides freezing us both
Eventually, when they could no longer hold
My icy arms,
They let go
On their way to greener pastures

Then I would melt
Seek the sun,
Weep for joy at the torrents inside me
That flowed again

You cannot touch this liquid life
Unless your fingers are blessed by a burning
Unlike anything before or after you,

I long to simmer in a scalding embrace,
You whom I have yet to meet,
You who will boil my insides until
One day,
I disappear
Like a pond dried up in summer,
Its filaments caressing the sun,
Lost forever to the world below

Until after years,
I will rain again on gardens
That men will worship
And whose beauty,
(Nourished by a love that no one knows),
Will enshrine our embrace for generations

I shadow touched the little being of light patterns..
Then something held my hand..
Then something spoke to me..
I felt the need to shadow touch them all..
Was I right to bring darkness to a world of nothing but light?
Was I turning into something wicked?
Nevertheless, I held both my hands out and shadow touched them all.
I heard all their voices, I felt all their touch.  

So many voices filled the room. All of which were thanking me for bringing them back.  I then wondered, "bringing them back from what?" I noticed that I could not see any of them.  However I could hear and feel them.  One of them told me, ' Will you walk in the light storm with us?"   Together we walked outside into the light rain.  Like me, darkness spread with every step they took.  Light rain fell upon us all turning into liquid shadow.  It looked as if the ground was bleeding darkness. The same voice spoke to me again. " Will you help us spread the beautiful darkness and find her? "  I felt this was right. I felt this was the true way.  I said yes.  Both my hands were being held.  Together our darkness spread.  Like a night sky filling in a day sky.  It was happening so fast.  It was beautiful..

Give me that liquid fire,
which burns my throat
and blurs the edges of my existence.

By Joanne Mathis

I submerged into this liquid that was
neither hot nor cold. I knew it was liquid
because I could hear the squishy sound
it made as I traveled through it.
When my eyes opened all I could see was
a colorless kaleidoscope.
I could not find myself no matter how hard
I tried. The more I tried the further
into the liquid I submerged.
I was able to stop and stood still.  
At that moment I realized my hands
were up around my head. As I could
not feel anything, I envisioned
myself banging my head with my fists.
The weight of the liquid began to go into
submission and disappear. I fell freely
to the bottom, waiting for the liquid to thicken again.

She is My cream nicotine
The
Surging through our blues
The fluidity of divinity
Juxtapose
Whoever said love was easy…

Yeah 'Ol Chap, they Sure had it right,
Because no man or lady can ever Subtract
Once their hue has mixed it can never go back.
2 Whipped Cream and Other Delights.

And why would you?
The dregs are bitter,
The milk too sweet.
If you water it down then
All flavor retreats

Life is just better off Bitter-Sweet,
Cream never asks coffee
On how it should mix
Why do we attempt these liquid alchemy tricks?

The intrusion is dilution of the Makers choice
Through imperfection comes the lesson
Learned perception with each sip

The air red dried truth
The
Words stuck to the lips
Tasters Digest the last drink drips
Yet I question why I am so subject
to infusion
Her meaningful quips
Why we attempt these liquid alchemy tricks?

Still I question why I am so subject
to the infusion of Her
Dips
Sometimes I call it Love
Sometimes I call it Quits
For You My Dear

Let's Cheers Another Grip
of
Seared Buds and Belly Aches
and
Lactose Licorice
So
Pour Another! while the Argument still in Air
and
While Dilutions of gratification Grind into Frothy Despair

She lays in the burning lake
Of trepidation
Luxuriating in its purity
Inhaling the smoke
Of ageless memories
As her flesh begins to sink
Down into the liquid
Losing its consistency
To the easy fluidity
Of endless regret
Hoping for the end
To taste as fiery
As the first glimpse
Of registered consciousness