I counted the freckles in her face
and those proceeded down her neck,
the few remaining faded into her chest,
where the sun rarely shined.

The white linen she was covered with,
a stark contrast to her red hair,
rising slowly up and down,
I lay watching her breathing.

Eyes moving behind eyelids,
caught in the midst of a dream,
I know they are blue,
and I wonder what they see.

The golden sun breaches the window,
a ray directly in her eyes,
a sleepy sigh from her lips,
as she rolls to her other side.

I rise and move,
the coffee brews,
as we begin another day.
together.

I remember the last time I truly smiled.
I was in the middle of waking up next to you,
You turned around and kissed me with your soft lips.

People complain about morning breath,
But I’ve never experienced it before.
I wish I could have your good morning kisses every day.
The raw taste of you as my arms slowly move along your shapely hips to draw you in.

Carnal desires are by far my biggest weakness.
The thought of what our lives would have been,
Thoughts that slowly **** me.

I’ll keep praying for you,
You want to be alone but you don’t want to be lonely.
We’re not ready,
I wonder if I’ll ever be.

find my poems
in a hundred years
and analyze them
as though they are written
in a foreign language
from a foreign time
full of foreign ideas
and words

analyze the way i say
i'm sad

"the darkness outside
spills into my empty room
on a body
wracked with sorrow
but too proud to cry"

analyze the idea
that everything i write
means something else
and i am not just
too lazy for prose

interpret me needing to talk
as me creating allusions

say to my face that when i said

"i'm happy"

it was sarcastic irony that reflected
my inner turmoil

analyze my poem
that is free therapy
to mean something
i wrote just for you

it speaks to you because
my word choice
was simple
every day

it speaks to you because
my alliteration is
totally
on purpose

it speaks to you because
literary terms
speak to you
more than some words
that meant

"i'm sad"

analyze me
and look past my struggles
that don't fit your agenda

analyze me

i am poetry

my soul is poured out
in each of these lines
each letter is me

so analyze me
like one of your french girls

make me beautiful

make me something that is
not
desperate poetry

make me you

(explicit)

**** my soul
        with poetry
           scream out my gracious name
             slay me with words
               that peel my layers
                and simultaneously
                                   drive me
                                           insane

finger me slowly, hotly
with just the right rhythm and rhyme
    push me past my
                 tender limits
                       into tongues of syntax,
                                                      sublime

a­lliterate my senses
   (in swift stac
                    c-at
                           o)
until my mind is but blank verse
    mess up my stressed
              and unstressed syllables
in unsung language, versed

I will speak to you in vowels
(the only sound
       I will be able to make)
as you stroke
   my iambic pentameter
             in the heat of frothed-up
                                                     ache

we are this heroic couplet, you see
        even if the meaning seems veiled
           no need for simile or metaphor
               as I feel your chest rise
                              in deep inhale

we are a natural paradox
       so many ironies abound
         discordant harmony
is our synaesthesia
     in visible darkness found

and I love this delicious enjambment
as your aura invisibly slips
                               into mine
our lines have no beginning,
                                 no end
    as we undo
          the boundaries
                      of time