When I am with you
I wanna lose my center
he would say to you gently
without words

he would translate you into his own language
of groove, longing, shouting, fluid desires
for the sake of  finding his own tracks
his eager mutable depths

he is looking for harbours
for his solitude turned into offerings
for devotion
for the secret wisdom that fills the cracks of night
he doesn't deny the intensity
of the sweet conversations between the hearing
and the touch
he hides his violence in sealed wells,
in clear visions, in the decimals of knowledge

he was a lonely boy
full of wonder

There are but only twenty four hours in each and every day
though so often this seems untrue whether we work or are at play.
The measure that ticks the seconds to make the minutes,
to make the hours that so slowly merge and fade away.
Until memory and minds shadows, paint all with shades of gray.
Life's joys and countless traumas that by seconds come and go,
at the ticking of a clock, shaping for each the living we come to know.
Smiling faces joined in laughter or sad eyes so full with tears,
by second, minute, hour, day until time becomes our lived out years.
We journey in a search for contentment and for a heart to find its way,
passing dreams that fade as if but seconds and still hope of that one day.

The wettest of love written out of my black
fountain pen. I’ve got hearts to spend,
customs to save, and not a lot of people to blame.

Oh what a shame, in this love’s long game,
starting off as friends, good remarks,
All into permanent scars; how haven’t we
come as far?

Oh I wonder how to slow down, to keep on
searching for something not yet around.

Love!

Oh where do I search, with the possible heartbreaks
that seem to lurk? Cut and burnt, soon after I had
my first.

Love letters into ashes, ashes into the dust,
scratched out names, nails turning into rust.

Pinned down by the wrists; to hold onto pain,
crosses are instead exes. Restless, into resting
soundly in my death.

In over my head, thoughts are covering
my shame. I’m waiting patiently after all,
to fall in love.

Once again.

Ocean lines,— under those eyes;
and lovely tears of their blue.
I took a bite of your fruit; cherry lips,
red passionate desired kiss.
Smooth skins of curves; peaches compliment
the plums. Passion fruit, a sour grape mix;
of bitter sweet love at times of you.
A basket case; I'm the fool neither less full of your fruit.

It's under your shoes; glass pieces of hearts
you step on with your high heel boots.
The cracks of sound are the proof;
of your quickened harshness to be my abuse.
I'm no use,— of not being the type used to you.
Scared of a cost to being scarred by love;–
so sacred of you, and all it's holy oxygen in the room.

The atmosphere does change;
but never more like your shades.
I'm stuck in empty pages; trying my best to read into
you. Oh of how the longings I have to meet,— on that
particularly day past a pens dreams painted in ink.
Cornered by love, if when I'm dared to walk on it's street.

The sweets nothings on repeat;
the few awkward hugs, handshakes, speed dating,
and those meet and greets.

Best to find love,— before it comes hunting for
me.

L-O-V-E

Looking Out Very Enthusiastically.

The moment those three words left his lips,
my chest nearly imploded from sudden bliss.

I couldn’t help but laugh, and let the tears fall.
Who knew? I had been searching for him, after all.

Searching for a lot of things...

Searching for a purpose; so I maybe
know where to go,
Searching for a best high; when
life is keeping me low,
Searching for the lows; when my highs
get out of control.

Searching for a lot of things...

Searching for a reason; to justify the answer,
Searching for my joy; to cure all my
depression's cancer,
Searching for my feet; to pretend that I'm
a perfect dancer.

Searching for a lot of things...

Searching for trouble; as innocent
as I am,
Searching for ***;  just to pretend I'm a
man.

But the search hurts, like words in
a script of a painful verse.

Life has rehearsed.

With the cameras always rolling,
the pains are always emerging,
Everything is so controlling,
and I might not know where I'm going.

All I know-
I'm always searching.

I lost my love, It’s just that simple.
I don’t know what else to say.

I miss his smile, his eyes, his hands.
He has a high libido and certain demands.

I went to my priest, he seemed kind of grim,
“God has a lot on his plate now - stop bothering him.”

I called the police, they sounded bored but wanted a description.
I said “He’s real good lookin’, and he tastes like chicken.”

I lost my love, but no one understands.
I have a high libido and certain demands.

(a firefly poem)

Love isn’t easy to find, it’s ​well-camouflaged.