I really do love love,
But love does not love me.
I love his hands upon my skin,
Though bruised my skin will be.
I love his kisses on my head,
Without them I’m as good as dead.
I love love though it breaks me,
So why does love just hate me?

I have heard
A very strange fact.
You could bite off your finger,
If your brain allowed the act.
Letting go of you
Is a similar feat.
I have to stop loving you,
But my mind admits defeat.
I would stay away
If I could fathom the pain.
But science prevents me,
Because of my brain.

I know my worth,
I have stood in the way
Of vitriol and shame,
Shrugged away pride
And ego and burned off
So many imperfections
To leave a man still flawed
But peaceful and true,
A man who loves and seeks
That selfsame love in return,
A man who will die he hopes
Of old age in the arms of his woman
After a life of love and joy,
But
If she does not see his love for what it is,
If she sees need as neediness,
Then death still will find me,
Still see my value and my worth,
But find me waiting nonetheless

Alone

You have no clue about the lengths that I'd go too,
To hear your curling name on the merciful wind,
To caress your slender fingers inside my own hands.
The earth bore my heavy footsteps-
It is a long fall here, from Eden, and I broke many bones,
Just trying to get to you. Just to
Roll your name inside my mouth like a prayer. Just to
Hold you in sweet devotion, the two of us, wanting for nothing more than we could
Fit in our hands.
So when you call me, late at night, with a bottle or two in your hands,
Telling me all the things your mother
Should've said. And didn't.
Know that to be near you-
Even in a phone call. Even in a dream.
Is the thing I have wanted since before I knew your name.

But would you stay with me, love? Would you stay here?
And you say: where?
and I think: Here, in the bed, in the house, in the city. Anywhere. Stay anywhere with me.
And you kiss my forehead, lips still wet with something, a sweet dream, and say
Goodbye, mate. Goodbye.