Some people can wade and be okay
but if I enter, I know I'll stay
please don't make me promises
I know once I'm stuck you'll go away

some people are not afraid to pass through
I dip my toes in and traps me like glue
that's why I was gonna run away from you
but i look down and I'm already doomed

you see I thought that I'd tread lightly
but that concrete grips my ankles tightly
while you can easily act all flighty
your final flight will be unsightly

I'm glad you're having a splashing time with me
but i knew i shouldn't have even dipped my feet
through your back strokes and front strokes you cannot see
I'm stuck here in this liquid concrete

Every morning
When the sun breaks
Over the misty horizon
And crawls in through our open windows
I open my eyes,
Kiss your lips,
And tell you that I love you

You grin,
Kiss my forehead with your sleepy smile,
And ask,
"But, darling,
What IS love?"

You ask me this every sunrise
Just so you can close your eyes
And listen to me tell you

"Well,"
I say,
"Love is a rain-soaked notebook
Crammed with poetry
Written on diner napkins.
Love is an old, wooden box
Filled with letters
That have been buried in the woods
For hundreds of years.
Love is a cloudy glass jar
Filled with pennies and nickels.

"Love is the sound of a gentle thunderstorm
At three in the morning.

"Love is an abandoned cemetery
Where no one but the ghosts who are bound inside its gates
Are left to tend to the plastic flowers.
Love is an empty bed
With a carefully folded piece of paper
Resting on one of the pillows.

"Love is a blood-stained sun dress.

"Love is an unfinished poem,
Abandoned by both the pen
And by the heart.
Love is a desktop piled high with scented candles
And fat, unopened envelopes.
Love is stepping outside during a storm
Without an umbrella."

There is silence
Surrounded by the sound
Of your heart beating against my chest

"Is that all?"
You ask me,
Your eyelids fluttering
Fighting to stay open
For just another moment.

"Of coarse not,"
I tell you
"Love is so many things."

"Then tell me."
You say,
"I want to know them all."

"Alright,"
I say,
Concealing a smile,
"Love is an early morning parade
Led by butterflies and hummingbirds.
Love is a bleeding sunset
Struck by Cupid's arrow
And sinking below the mountains
To die peacefully in the arms of the earth.
Love is a disease
Spread by lingering eyes in a crowded room
And soft fingers
Dancing across cool skin.
Love is a demon that possess every soul
At least once
Leaving it broken and bleeding
But with a purpose.
Love is a prison run by criminals,
An asylum for the sane
Governed by unstable patients.

"Love is an apology
Crafted by the heart
And butchered by the mouth on the way out.
Love is a puckered, purple scar
That you have no memory
Of adding to your collection.
Love is a fire
Desperately trying to put itself out
With dry brush
And hot grease.
Love is a gaping, bleeding wound
That cannot be healed by stitches
Or by time.

"Love is an ocean of sailors
Drowning because they had placed so much of their trust
In their ship
That they never bothered to learn how to swim.
Love is a field full of dead flowers
Wilted and rotted to black pulp.
Love is a broken doorbell
With an idiot on one side
Who refuses to knock
And a deaf man on the other
Who would not be able to hear
The bell
Or the knocking anyway.
Love is an acoustic guitar
With three broken strings
And a hole worn in the side.

"Love is an empty promise
Fulfilled by happenstance.

"Love is a deep sea fish
That has known only cold, heavy water
And darkness
All his life
But still dreams every night
Of flying.
Love is a gruesome nightmare
That you are fortunate enough to forget
The moment you wake up."

I pause
I listen to the deep and heavy rhythm
Of your breathing
And I know you are asleep.
I shuffle and slide in the sheets
And tuck myself under your arms
Placing your hands on my bare waist

"Love is scary, and exciting,
And painful, and ridiculous,
And draining
All at the same time."
I tell you,
"But it's worth every second."

I close my eyes,
Kiss each one of your fingertips,
And press the palm of your hand
Against my beating heart.

"I love you."
I whisper,
"Now and forever."

I’m afraid to let you in
Because you already intruded
I’m afraid to walk hand and hand with you
For as soon as I give you my hand, you’ll drag me in your direction
I’m afraid to let you take the wheel
In fear that you may not give it back

There was a man in a bright white suit.
His date was dressed in charcoal gray.
Dressed were they for a dance at school.
“You look quite dapper!” most would say.

His date’s best friend was also there.
Dressed in white with beautiful hair.
Her date was dressed in charcoal gray.
The same color to his dismay.

The man in the white suit noticed
That the dates’ grays matched perfectly.
A red blotch on his chest showed this.
The girl in white talked carelessly.

Her dress remained pure, without mark.
His suit was all white, but the heart.
The man broken, ready to die.
Her, clueless, not even a sigh.

The man began to long for her,
Even though she was not his date.
He felt so hurt, he was not sure.
Should he tell? Or is it too late?

He had wanted to share this pain,
But her pure white dress would be stained.
He dropped the sin between the two,
Leaving the girl without a clue.

As of now that blotch shows bright red.
Only his date knows what it means
Or wise folk whom this poem have read.
The white dressed girl still purely gleams.

i hate to make a metaphor out of everything,
but we're celestial bodies orbiting out of control.

each day the sun rises with it's own strength
to clear paths and make visible the roads
that she can't even walk on.

the moon rises every night off of the sun's glow,
and not once does he return the favor;
he takes just enough so that gleaming eyes can adore;
the sun is so bright he doesn't even look at her.

when i was younger i read somewhere that
if you're going to do something, give it your all,
or don't do it at all.
and i have religiously lived up to that reading
until i met you.

you attend school just enough so you won't fail - just making it.
you work just enough so you won't get fired -just making it.

and this relationship,
is just making it.

words.
they're a funny thing.
they can mean
thousands of different things,
each word
a metaphor
for something that is
subtle and unheard of.
but his words--
they are more than just metaphors.

do you drown yourself in poetry
to compensate for your misery

do you hide your feelings in verses
because you can't be with that person

do you constantly use metaphors
because you don't know what the truth is for

do you purposely stay miles away
to stay away from the pain that waits