They say that we're all just halves
Of what we are supposed to be...
But tonight, I am whole.


-- Eleanor

i am captivated
by the fluidity of your text message
you claim you arent a poet
but wow
how you can use 140 characters
to put words out of my mouth
evolving silence from stunned emotions
fantasies flit and twitter
sparked by your wit
the eminent feeling of loss when they fade
out of the temporary reality of my neocortex
and my thalimus
away into the sharpening atmosphere
my discombobulated desires
each begging for my undivided attention
in this sleepy realm of imagination
i contemplate your construction
a worthy demonstration of your capacity to hold
my mind
my eyes
my body
you are great, large, spirited
and your spirit consumes and overflows
my selfish desire to swallow you whole
until you spill out of my ears like maple syrup
sweet and sticky
and then i can have you all to myself
but that isnt fair
to the world
and the good you do it
you have taught me restraint
in my inability to think of anything but you
coupled with my inability to be with you
you manage to intrude into my every thought
conversation
my very being
with magic
your resplendent mind staining my arms
the overly colourful shadow that creeps along my spine
i feel a spectrum of colour
flickering along my horizon
crawling down my thigh like a silk scarf
i am consumed
by your light
crackling and growing
sparking and fizzling
fuelled by my tinder
my eyes swivel and squint
trying to see you through the bright mass you are surrounded by
and i catch a sigh
escape my lips
falling to you
from this new plane of existence you lifted me to
and here there is a woodstove
and a mass of cotton blankets
with a divot in the middle
begging to be filled
and you are there
my hand eases my descent into your warm chest
feet lifted
head filling the gap between your shoulder and your neck
and i rest my hand on yours
you gently sweep your fingertips along the top of my thigh
and you hold my other hand
in life there are times and places
abundant
that we find ourselves falling into
relationships
feelings
people
and so rarely
do we feel like we are made to be there
but here
darling
is where i am supposed to be

These poems ****,
I tell myself.
I follow a formula,
But it comes out tight.
I do it on my own,
It sounds too loose.
It’s loose in a sense,
That it came right from my flow of thoughts.
Off balance and perhaps preachy.
Maybe even redundant and bland.
Did that really come from me?
Where is this coming from?
WHO AM I!?
HOLY CHRISTMAS TREE!
Those words that I typed on my iTouch,
At midnight before a day of classes.
Please, just go to sleep already,
Jesus freaking Christ sitting with the Buddha in heaven,
GO TO SLEEP.