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Jonathan Feb 24
Maybe one day I will share Everclear and orange juice with a stranger. Perhaps it will be at a bus station or in a backyard south of Rio Grande, hell, it could be tomorrow on my smoke break by that one dumpster; the one that nobody notices because it smells like forgotten space and unwashed feet. Regardless of where it won't take much to warm the belly and cloud the chaos. Maybe a small splash into a glass would be all I need to look over at the stranger, who happily shares it with me, and say what I can't when sober. A splash for us both, so we can hear our naked thoughts and see we are the same in mind, body, and spirit. We are no different. We are but two fleshy hearts sharing forgotten space, looking for love, and finding ourselves; but as to how? That is never clear.
This is not a poem.. oops
Jonathan Feb 23
I fall in love
With everyone I know
I give this heart away
Freely I give mind
Body and spirit to follow
You will know I am yours
When you hold me
Close and in your hands
When I let you take it—
In pack not in part
Wholly you have me
My undivided loyalty
Jonathan Feb 22
We can make love
Or talk about you
Whatever you want to do
My time is yours
My body is too
To touch and soothe
Or to hold my tongue
Jonathan Feb 10
I have worked the wrench’n’hammer
To the bolts’n’nails of rich men.
As their machines mutter’n’purr,
I am left with pennies to spare.

I have crawled under their buildin’s,
Face down as if I’m their grease’n’dirt,
To make their water flow on for them,
Havin to skip my meals for their dollar’s whim.

I hold my tongue like the best of’em
And fold my calloused hands politely.
When asked what I believe, I simply blink;
lettin’em think I’m a chain with’a missing link.

I drive 45 minutes home to an awful town
But it’s cheap an I can stand it.
I ****, shower an shave, an wait for my baby.
She’s a whip smart mind, my beautiful lady.

The days are similar an not so excitin’,
They grind on an on till the point is dull.
But with her around me, I’m a lucky man,
Cause she sees life not ‘as is’ but as ‘we can’.

One day we will stop all this dreamin’
An cast off to the winds whirlin’ whisper.
As it tells us where, when, an how, we will
Go on together an finally have our fill.
Jonathan Nov 2020
That fog was a wet sock,
Shoved deep into their mouths.
A cold day and a bundled heart.

They choked on wasted words,
Words that would have spilled out,
Had the sun warmed their lips.

The frosted park of leafless trees
Sang silence in a tune too quiet.
They walked, feeling every stone unturned.

The simple scarf she wore,
Just a pretty noose around her nape;
He would have kissed her there if he knew the knots.

His gloved hand was a fortress,
Tucked and tightly hoarding heat.
She found no invitation at that leather gate.

As they walked in the mundane,
Surrounded by winter’s mystery,
They both longed to run back and kiss with a summer sunset.
Jonathan Nov 2020
I would rather have ice in my veins,
To water down the liquor,
Than pump all this blood
Just to remind me I'm not dead.

Aren't we here to feel something?
Bottle after bottle
After bottle after
Bottle after bottle.

I would rather shiver at your touch, naked,
Than feel nothing under clothes.
It's winter out there, dear,
And we are starting this fire.
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