Can a Love song be used twice?
I love you’s and the reminiscent blues,
do the rhythm and blues remember the
ones you loose ?

This reminded me of you.
I use the lyrical hues
of this fine tune to put into words my feelings for you.

Expiry date.

Can a hummingbird still sing
when your number no longer rings?
I wonder
Nat King Cole’s somber stardust melody still
haunts my reverie.

Can I really vow to another with the words I solemnly devoted to my past lover?

As seasons change
so to does my musical range.
Yet a love song , is still a Love song.

To my future love,
at times my hearts desire cannot create words which quantify that;
of a lyrical tune and a lyre.

A Love song.
Love in the present.
Beyond the fond memories of things the lovers dreamt,
Love remains in all things spent
within life’s timely symphonies.

A child is pure and shines in love,
Pure in love and happiness,
They don't know hate or greed,
They take knowledge from those who think best,
A child with love takes flight,
A child with problems must fight,
Beautiful child be everything you want to be,
A child must live life free,
A child changes people,
Come now child let's discover happiness together,
A child.

Oh what a place of hope and of no pain
Perfect skies with no rain
Of endless happiness
No tears or even darkness

For nothing loved is ever lost, broken or sad
I am happy here, knowing that I made you glad
I will still remember in the lifetime we had
Doing life together, embracing both the good and bad

Though I could live and love in many past lives
Yet you were the only one I love and is truly mine
I will hold you dearly not only in our earthly life,
But also here in the afterlife

I’ll be watching you from a distance
Still loving you so relentless
Being with you in every instance
Hoping you’ll feel my love and presence

‘Til I wait for you here in paradise
Seek my shining angel light
Though I may have been taken away from you that night
God brought me home, resting by his side

I'm afraid that if I die

People wont know things only I know

Like how N likes their carrots

Or how L loves her dad

Only I know this, like this

Of course others know some of this too, some of the time

But no one

Not one single person knows that you

You two

Are perfect

I mean this literally

I was gifted this knowledge when you were born

I know this viscerally, like this.

Or that you're beautiful in ways that make me hate words

In ways that render language hollow, meaningless, obscene

I am not being dramatic.

And also that you are good

By which I mean loveable

Like very and always

Fundamentally, inherently

This is not something you can ever change even though you'll probably try

And you might convince other people

Maybe even your dad, or your therapist, or your lover, or yourself

But you'll never convince me

I don't know why

I just know this

And I need you to know this too

loving often feels like running hurdles
but it's endless; there is no specified finish line
you keep jumping hurdles
and you keep running

you brush aside fatigue
you brush aside pride
you burn the desire to quit

you don't stop running.
that's what love is:
running endless hurdles.

park benches and arm stretches
hugs that feel like roses blooming
like footsies fooling
diehard chasers and fearless makers
high heels carving holes in the concrete floor
how is that possible?
holding hands on carved bridges made from men so long ago
touching each other’s shadows
behind telephone poles
dreaming mid-yawn
spinning in silk and satin spindled suits and dresses
red streaked eyes and tempered smiles and luxurious bodices
dancing on picnic looking tabletops
laughing our butts off
swinging from low hanging chandeliers
drinking from low budget wine glasses with koolaid since we’re minors
laying on each other’s chests and stroking each other’s hair fervently
trying to ***** dance in the sparkle of the sunlight
catching each other as we fall into trusting positions
pretending to be spies on top secret missions
grabbing my waist and falling onto the sparkly clean floor
becoming so mad yet never unsure
captivated by your lips and the way your skin twinkles a million different shades
and the way your voice calls my name in a billion languages,
some completely made up even
meticulously planning the way our shoes will leave marks in the dusty spots of the castle
sweating and eating brunch for dinner and not eating filet as an entree but as an appetizer
falling into your strong arms and losing control of what we are
seeing stars in the retinas of your eyes and mysteriously feeling dead-alive
like never before
nobody would have ever seen the manner in which you bat your eyelashes at me
and how the soft murmur of the breeze echoes across the coarse part of your cheek
and calls for me
safe and compact into a life that’s so magically intact
loving would never have been so tranquil if we had planned every single sought after moment
candidly slow dancing in the velvet summers day
being odd and obscure and strange in several colors and in multiple ways
touching the surface of your ocean wave body
sloshing so wonderfully
the rhythmic sound and all your capabilities
the rampant sweat clinging to your face, your throat,
looking at me
clowning around, tackling each other while grinning wildly
pillow fighting so hard the feathers exit and get caught on our wet tongues and shivering bodies,
and we collapse and watch hours and hours of tv while we sing karaoke from the 80s and pretend to be heartbroken like in the mvs
sitting on established thrones without the grueling jobs and committed work
losing sleep cause we stay up all night playing monopoly, but mostly it’s just you making fun of me cause i don’t participate i just grab my knees and admire the way you pick up the cards and still lose to me
and watch your rage fuel our fake arguments so we end up with full stomachs and happiness
watching theater from the highest balcony and grabbing my shaky hand and ridding of my anxiety
lovers spit, kissing cherry lips in the darkness of the abyss
kicking papers off of desk offices and messing around as if we are two tiny kids
having the kind of love that doesn’t get trapped beneath the sofa cushions that are crusty and ready to give away, but haven’t yet
the kind between gapped teeth, white as ivory, licking the dwindling flavor and savoring the last moments till it’s not sugary
taking life so seriously is absurd,
instead dance ballroom style on tabletops and try ***** dancing for once in your darned life
it ain’t gonna hurt