Poetry is meant to be felt
Not just read

How?
With every little breath while sleeping on my lap

Did you manage the feat of creating every love poem
Ive written & read..
To be All about you?

is it fitting
That on " national love letter day", I write my first to you?

I have written about you since we met.
But this, mi amo, is the first directly to you.

I had never shared my writings before you
I still have them in a notebook full of emotion
Locked with the same key that buckled my heart.
But you hold it now. So you hold them as well.

You are my first in so many things.
So I only hope I can be your first in a few.

I stand before you exposed, enchanted,
and enveloped in your love.

I have a habit of writing.
I leave notes
song names
numbers
written everywhere...

Now,
Starting today
I'm writing something worth much more.
Little tokens.
For you.
To keep.

I'm writing you notes, poems, letters.
All about you
for you
explaining my adoration
and pure addiction to you

Here is the first of many...


I cannot wait till I can wake up quietly,
roll over to see you
ease out of bed
and leave you notes on my pillow where my head was resting
" I am out running for your (French vanilla, cream and sugar) coffee and getting you chocolate frosted donuts, be back soon my love"

Here is to you baby.
Here is to the notes I've yet to leave
Here is to the letters I have yet to write
The poems yet to share.

Here is to you...
Because they are all yours.

Here is to the first of many.
My love...
All my letters are yours.

My Darling, My Dearest
I sink to the dirt,
My regrets swirl around my body like a brides wedding dress.
White lace, virginal unsoiled regrets lay about me lazily-
biting my ankle, scratching up my legs to be held.
My Cherished Treasure,
I will carry my torment like an old man carries his walking stick
Gnarled with time and miles,
before any step I will take-
My regret will mark the path.
And I will walk for all of time with my walking stick. I will walk until I bend over in a broken bridge of bones, all the while letting my regret lead me onward.
My Beloved,
I will wallow in the mud of my sorrows and grief
I will roll and dry, caking dirt on my belly-
like the beast I have become.
My Beautiful,
The wounds that mortification of the flesh will produce-
will be sorry attempts to understand your pain.
The whip braided in tight thick leather
but I can never cut deep so I might
produce enough depth so instead will I bleed-
another sin, another crime!
I cannot feel your suffering-can only guess at the depth.
Oh the endlessly black waters of your sorrow!
I hold my breath, stones piled deep in my pockets.
I dive, I dive...wanting, needing this sacrifice.
But **** this survivalist in me. My lungs betray me-
sputter and cough.
I inhale my water of my sins and breathe them deep so I may drown and
free you from the shackles of my crimes.
My Cherished one, my Shining one-
Forgive this old sinner, forgive this reprobate heart.
For I love you.
When the stars exploded, when universes expanded
I loved you.
When the first blade of grass poked it's willful head above soil,
I loved you.
When first Adam kissed Eve,
I already loved you.
In the next life where you are caterpillar and
I am stump,
I love you then too, and beg you use me to reach closer the sun.
Forgive a fool his foolish ways, he knows no better
Forgive me, cherished one
and let me love you,
Let me love you as the faulted love the Divine. As the sinner loves the penance, as the child loves the stars.
Let me give you the moon, let me put it in on your lips.
So you may kiss the moon, beloved, kiss the moon.

Sahn 7/6/14

Sometimes silence is preferred
To those constant constricting string of compliments  
Written in your words and thrown off your tongue
With careless heed of the damage that they do
Irrevocable words of the lies of love and lust
Drip drip dripping down from your lips
To fall simultaneously in hearts and in the gutter
Where ******* collects and rains pour down
Eradicating all trace, but for the heart in which it kindled
No recognition from lips whose secret they once held
Now long forgotten and poorly remembered;
Lacklustre speech trailed and its meaning dismembered
Ill-gotten feelings poorly deceived when hopefully conceived  
From the deceptions which derided and descended
From lips once bloodied; now full of false testament.

You were never good at writing
The letters you gave me
Were ****
Because you were ****
You still are
And i don’t believe
You ever meant
A **** word you wrote
on any of those crinkled papers
titled 'love letter.'
In March
You told me you loved me
That i was different
Than anything before.
Special
You carved my name
Into your bed frame
You unknowingly carved
Yourself
Into me
In June
You kissed another girl
I found out two weeks later
I swear i heard my heart shatter
In August
We thought we would last
Forever
Invincible
You wrote our initials
Into a huge heart
On my desk.
By October
Things were different
We could both agree
I had changed.
November came
I liked another boy
You thought you knew
But you didn’t.
The day I turned 15
he kissed me
not my fault
(not what you thought)
2 days after i turned 15
I found out you liked
Another girl
I thought i had known
And now i did
And now i was done
Dealing chances
To a boy
That only spoke pretty things
And had ****** handwriting

When my heart beats black inside my chest, and the days I have are filled with death, and the girls I know won't walk with me, then I have my choice in misery. All the birds have died, and the plains are dry, the skyscrapers aren't lit up at night, and the city's sound sounds like nothing, then I have my choice in suffering. People talk a lot, but they hardly speak, all their voices creak in the summer streets, everybody walks but they're not moving, I try to only observe but then I start screaming.

I ******* hate the way that you look at me, your skin's so ******* clean that it feels *****, your eyes move around but you're not seeing, the way I hurt each day but you say nothing. If I tried to leave you might be happy, so I sit and be and go out at night and cheat. I would break your heart, but it hardly beats. You're my walking dead, my darling zombie.

Each day is second rate, I bore so easily. It's like the day we met ended your pleasantry. I startle all the time, you seem so unaware. I chose you number one, you chose to not even care.

I caressed you once, and undressed you thrice, you abandoned me in the middle of the night. All the time I halved, you had your own account, of every thing we did, it wasn't the right amount. Now I hardly care about the drugs you're on. I'm quoting blasphemy out of every psalm. Even the words I write don't tell half of the truth, about the way I felt chasing after you.

You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept.
The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning
Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost.

Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all
My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are
Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short.    

Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.