She rubs my back and
tummy when I am feeling
grumpy and upset

Picked up a little spark
out the corner of my shut eyelid.

Such a weird emission in this charcoal dark.
It began a faint glow.
Slightly brighter than the black
above, beside and below.
Then the glow became a hum
of violet and gradually grew
into a blue.

That color, so serene,
became a green  and its vibrations
were quite intense. Just like in the earth
out of the green, with a little help from it's blue fellow,
sprouted a most glorious shade of yellow!

I became intoxicated by this colorful spectrum,
drinking deeply of each color as if on some
florescent binge. When I had my my fill of this bouquet
out sprouted the orange and red.

They all danced in a kaleidoscopic
shuffle, shifting about like lovers
in a masquerade ball.
They would collide and waltz
twirl about each other with excellent grace
and then, in search of their original partner,
separate. Once the couples were reunited,
they took flight from my eyelids and slowly
but surely, in a most marvelous display,
everything returned to black as the colors faded away.

All I know is what other people describe.
Butterflies in your tummy.
Sunshine on a cloudy day
But I... oh I...
I think differently than
picturesque realities.
It must be. It has to, you see.
For I, you, me, we, us and this
is merely a physical expression
of our emotional bliss.
So when I say love, I don't think of doves
or an end-of-the-date kiss.
I think of the times when your away
and I have no way to say
or express my distress
other than multiple texts
saying "hey" and smiley faces
I sprinkle throughout your day.

Round little orbs roll
across the sidewalk, crashing
into another

As I climb each step
slowly, I'm getting higher.
Transcendentally.

She made breakfast
of sausage, toast and eggs,
sunny-side up.
With a smile that reflected
my shattered perception,
I scarfed the food down.
It was a pitiful apology.
The toast was burnt;
the sausage cold and
the eggs were runny.
It was a meal put together
by someone that knew
they could do no wrong.
I ate every crumb in a false show of good faith.
You see, breakfast comes every morning
with or without our participation.
The tears on my heart, however,
are only made with her designation