The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

and when you said
laughter is like a foreign language
i imagined that i was
teaching you how to
speak it

He threw all his unspoken words into the gap between her lips.

Every girl wants a bad boy
that will be good just for her
and every boy wants a good
girl that will be bad just for
him.

Morning    whispers,    legs
entwined, the tickle of your
skin in  the  soft  light  that
traces  softly through these
sheets  as  I  touch   you  in
places   you   never   knew
existed, and I've never been
happier
in this place,
      with you,
      with me,
       with us.

I want  to  be  the  only  hand
you ever need to hold and I'm
ready  to  do  anything  to  be
                      your  everything.
                                                                                 Jon York   2018

Grasping fingertips
clutch stagnant air
I am desperately searching
while you remain everywhere