Reject
logic & respect
empathy --

expecting delivery,
goods given,
same goods returned.

I wanted to
merge into you,
the first sight
of your face.

Still do.
Still do.
I still do.
I still ******* do.

I want to
fall
into you.

This happened before.
Your eyes. Your world.
Your lust. Your lies.
This happened before.
Your heart. Your hurt.
Your best. Your worst.
This happened before.
Your taste. Your scent.
Your loss. Your win.

One could say, I have a taste
for the familiar.
Grace, is still waiting alone,
for me to see my mistakes.

but

I see the shapes.
I see the forms.
I dip my toes in the destruction.
I fail, to be reborn.

It was a brief respite between summer and autumn
Where our love fell to the wayside of the far road,
the path less traveled,
and we were no strangers to the yellow wood.

We fed off the high, but serotonin depletes.
You left with my voice crack with fond bleats.

Walk out the glass, wait out the fire.
Bury me for necking on the
beckoning of
a long lost romance of mourning frustration.

Bled stone as thrown
through the walls of your frank emotion.

"*******."
Alright, honey. If you say so.
And when your storm cracked our oar,
we filled to the brim
with saltspit of breeze and bubble.

Our wood rot and mildewed.
So we hanged it all up.

Chase ghosts as an albatross hangs low on the horizon.
Sea and sky meet with no seam.
Let us drift to that beauty.

the bridge you passed has bodies under it, get over your fear of lying and get on your tummy and let's play wheelbarrow with those stems I scooped up from CVS and pre-cut for you before I got to the front door. Not only do I like that your mom likes that I like to get you them; you wear how content you are with we based on how you meet the needs of a poppy or a daffodil. Nothing does buckets of flowers good like a little bit of teenage romance. But we're not still digging the crotch out of our fingers or filing down or ****** cards anymore, now are we? We have multimedia, social networking, label, after ******* label and acquaintance both tertiary and intimate to reconcile differences, the advice we've never asked for but always been given. No one will ever tell me what I deem tolerable, especially you. I know that after saying how you've never disappointed me you must have felt some guilt, an unintentional result of once again attempting my position in thwarting any emotional pain that continues to be unresolved. We spoke of being funny and pushing boundaries but not breaking our circle of contentedness. But instead by sleeping in our arms until the side on which you lay molds my arm inside of it, and we are made one.