When does our weekend begin
Time flies in contemplation.
The day ends, quick to start.
Belittling how the nights are not the same.
Caught in thought.
The laughs that start soon as I see you.
Things that occupy time until the next time.
Again becoming a past time.
The season changes in a matter of days.
The weekend still so far.
The human heart a mystery.
Full of affection. Restrained throughout the week.
Fond with anticipation.
To see you, to feel you.
The embrace of like minds melting in the torch of where we dwell most.
The week becoming longer and longer.
When can my heart beat it's fullest.
Running away with every throb.
Taking you further and further away from where we have to come back.
When does our weekend begin.
Holiday included, extended weekend.
Seeing you smile.
The weekend is near

My love for you isn't just a feeling.
It's a civilization.
It's a group formed in unorganized noise.
A commotion of expression purposely existing
the sole purpose of you.
Living & breathing.
A jumbled language overheard.
Stenciled with each patter of foot.
Every horn honked.
Each lane clogged with the thought of you.
A foundation built from the ground up
in means to explore.
A stone age modernized.
Misinterpreted by the desire of fire.
Protected.
Built upon.
Built into the tallest building, which I call your name.
My love for you is like the plane that flies overhead.
Roaring loud in repetition.
Tedious nooks & crannies.
Places to shop, things to see.
All the things I see when I look into your eyes.
My love for you a province of sorts.
The smell seared in a pan. Best served on a plate for two.
A mix of different pastas, vegetables.
Fried in upbeat cafe, different aromas.
The chit chat different versions of me.
Complimenting the very essence of you.
A new building erected with cranes and steel beams.
Plastered dry wall.
Soon opened for your arrival

With so little time I could not decide.
Shelf after shelf filled with book upon book.
The likes I've dreamed of reading.
Most bookstores have there signs posted.
Opening and closing time.
But this, this was something out of the ordinary.
Not a soul wandering through the isles.
No checkout line.
It was intimate.
Being here alone surrounded by book after book.
Each with a cover beautifully drawn.
Genres of insecurities, dreams, ambitions.
Love.
Any spot on the floor felt like home.
Addressing myself in total seclusion.
Mornings spent in thought embraced by the cold air flowing through the vents.
Afternoons spent without a thing to do.
The nights when a pillow was the only comfort, drifting off to sleep.
Slow rather than fast.
I flipped through page after page.
Wandering from isle to isle undecided in which book I wanted to read first.
Eying the shelves one at a time.
Finding the beauty in what makes you, you.
The marked on pages.
The distraught covers.
With so little time I didn't want to spend every second over-thinking.
Analyzing exactly which stood out the most.
When in actuality.
They all are a part of you

I love you to pieces.
All of you being my favorite.
After a long day, I look forward to seeing you.
Being around you.
I constantly loose myself in your eyes.
Every moment with you a blessing.
Whether it's early in the morning
Or late at night.
I love every moment.
My chocolate peanut butter craving starts and ends with you.
I can't help but smile.
Thankful that your not wrapped in tin foil.
A moment of trust easily accessible.
By far the greatest gift I could ever receive.
I accept all of you.
Delectable pieces poured into my hands.
Sensually sharing hidden parts of ourselves.
Every inch uncovered beneath coated chocolate.
Creamy peanut butter.
Soon melted away by tastes desire.
It's practical to see why I have to call in sick.
Spending all my time with you.
Your taste still on my lips.
Stomach still aching.
My chocolate peanut butter craving.
Thank you for being you

Loving you is like going on vacation without any money.
Away from all the tourist attractions.
The best views all in walking distance.
The places no-one likes to go alone.
My heart no longer my own.
Following where ever you go.
With legs of its own.
It runs like a teenager,
Street after street .
Making faces, having fun.
Your voice a constant favorite heard on station after station.
My heart jerking in place, smiling.
Dancing to the sound.
Loving you is like going somewhere new.
Welcomed by friendly faces.
Shown the sights left off travel brochures, travel channels.
Loving you is a constant  happy hour.
Strawberry & Mango margaritas on the house.
Loving you, being my favorite part

I love listening to you.
In any way possible.
Whether it's big or small.
Sometimes I get lost in not just the words you speak.
But the actions that follow.
I hate interrupting.
Adding on to previous statements.
Until I know that your completely done.
Not wanting to make you feel unappreciated.

My hands following yours in the deepest form of flattery.

Open ended questions that lead to hour after hour of communication.
My fondness for you growing deeper and deeper.
At times I can't help but interrupt.

Our pauses taking a bit longer after each statement.
It's the anticipation that I want you to know.
That I am listening and take to heart what you are saying.
Stretching myself to cover every part of you.

Completely attentive excited that you'd consider my opinion.
To sit back and reflect without jumping to conclusion.
The one thing that I can do to improve myself.
To love you better.
To accept any and every change that may occur.

A safe place where we can do and say anything without being judged.
I love listening to you.
Specifically without interrupting.
Noticing how happy you are being heard.
With the intent of hearing what you are truly saying.
I appreciate you for truly understanding that if I do interrupt
It's truly the sole purpose of how much I care

I don't consider you a friend because of how many times you cross my mind.
Nor because of the times we don't mention.
I don't consider myself in love because of the things we do to each other behind closed doors.

Open doors or in-between doors.
I consider you my equal because of the philosophy we share.
All without making a sound.

The love we have that naturally reacts with a vocal notion of it's own.
We don't have to be around each other to explore the things that aren't said.
A vocal assurance that I do indeed mean what I say.

We are both the ugliest kind of beautiful our laughs being the ice breaker
for all that we share.
The tears elapsed from laughing too hard.

No I don't consider you a friend, or a lover because of how much I'll miss you when your gone.
No I don't want to be near you just because of a single thought.

Nor because of the way you make me feel.
You'll always be with me.
Sharing our ugliest kind of beautiful

Every couple of days.
She comes around.
She claims to not like me.
She looks the other way.
When she needs me
She knows where to find me.
Reaching with open arms.
When no one is around she professes her love.
There is no other.
She breaks my heart.
The start of another week.
She claims to not like me.
She calls late night.
Apologizing for what she's done.
I never felt so bad.
It's coming to an end.
In another couple of days.
Things'll be back the same.
The same old same old.
Both our selfish ways.
She knows where to find me.
I have no clue where she is

Whenever you speak
I listen carefully.
Finding much needed serenity.
Placing myself in our every private conversation.
The way you could read my mind.
Your voice a familiar place in my ear.
Those full brown eyes that stare off in a dream.
Sometimes I wonder what's on your mind.
My wish to hug you as hard as I can.
Your chest against mine, eyes closed in comfort.
When you speak I am in ultimate comfort.
This comfort of just being around you.
All the little things I've missed so much.
Inches away from my nose.
The times we've shared.
The touch of your lips,
The smile of seeing your face.
Bursting into laughter.
Most of the time you keep quiet.
And that's understandable,
Those full brown eyes caught in a dream.
When you do speak.
Every word becomes that much more precious.
I listen intently,
Knowing just inches from my nose.
Is the result of a dream I've had quite often

When I first met you 
I knew you were rich.
not because of worldly possessions.

When I first met you

I fell in love with your richness,
this vast amount of wealth.
Without the arrogance that follows.

Not in compensation for my own.
Not because of how you looked.

What you could afford.

What you wore.
But in how you smiled.

In proportion to what your heart could afford.

The currency you
constantly give for nothing in return.

An abundance of smiles in the places you
could not see before you walked passed

The biggest being,
The smile you put on my face.

The currency you constantly
give for nothing in return