It's night.
and nimbly
she - well not quite dances.
But entrances me.
My mind fumbles.
It's spinning.
There is
music there.
it emanates from her body in
Neon notes.
They free float.
It's a smoothe picture to swallow.
But they are stuck in my throat.
(like my wordless hope
that she'll lean in,
halt her dance,
just long enough to press her lips
to mine)
she resonates with every note and
she dances like the silkiest spoken
word.

Limbs
sway
she makes
day
break
Stealing the color
of neon skies
Fluid in her every stroke
the same electric blues,reflecting in her eyes,
Her gaze set fire to my haze,
Struck a chord inside my chest,
the note somehow complementing
the delicate sway of her hips.
her lips, where the tip of my tongue could only dare to caress

Today he climbed into my dresser drawer
To find a place to sleep, that might hide him
From the outside world
From everyone but me, he has always loved boxes
Of every shape and size,
When ones too small inside he’ll crawl
Tell fur runs over sides,
With paws sprawled and purr rolling,
And batting at my heart
I knew the day we got this cat that
We would never part.

That moment of awkward forced eye contact between strangers
On a hot and crowded public bus.
My reflection on the screen of my laptop seems to soft
Against the harsh rattles, jangles, clatters.
Peculiar people spoiled by the heat.
Thighs stick to pleather covered seats..
While candy apple red hair with a wrinkled face
Speed talks keeping pace with the changing place
Outside wide tinted windows,
Miss hand gestures competes for air space
While the wind whistles through an open window.
Shadows dance across the broken dreams
Of a forlorn man wringing withered torn hands.
No silence draws attention like his can,
Stands out like a numb spot
On a sore thumb. Falls nicely behind
The loud roars and murmured hum.
The whole seen a dysfunctional sort of thing,
But I think you would better yourself
If for one day you let your guard down
And climb into a packed space on a hot day
And made friends with
That moment of forced awkward eye contact between strangers.

I was counting on you hellopoetry to engage my mind.

You started off
Creating snapshots out of words you caught,
Shouting out my name calling to my interests.
I was happy to come and be softly
Caressed by words that hate, love, feel, taste
To mediate for my torn heart strings
To just listen to the poem,
Re-understand’em get to know them.
Stick around long enough for soft images
To reconcile lost moral, revive my sense of self.

Opening led to spilled words,
You must have smiled to have heard,
Because you retorted immediately, messaged
A kind word. You became a friend of the pen,
Than a pen pal and then Stepping from
Ambiguity of dark tree limbs you
Climbed into my heart and became my friend.

The only problem is that moment you transformed,
From rhymes and font on page, to a voice
with dialect, Tenor, Volume
and inflection, something changed.
Poems I have read a dozen times,
I just can’t read the same, Because
every time I end a line
I hear a southern twang.

When I think about you leaving,
I have to stop my breathing
From stealing me away into waves of havoc ,
Awesome in their size taking me down
Beating me with panic, honestly
The experience is to traumatic,
So I leave the thought lurking
In the background of my anxieties.
Whispering silent pleas to a god
I don’t believe in, or who does not believe in me.
Scraping a sense of purpose from my tired
And ragged bit of existence expressing
My resistance in hushed goodbye wishes.
Hugs and kisses misted in years of tears
Drifting down pink cheeks, where red lips perched
And brow  becomes furrowed ,
From the words I’ve borrowed,
And slipped from A mouth that’s
Clinched “ I miss you already, I’m about to slip.
I will never be ready. I’m going to be sick.”
I bite my tongue back and realize what I haven't said,
Just a broken track playing inside my head.
Nothing but a scared heart filled with dread.
And the guilt of all the things I’ve just said.