Pleading to you and wanting
You back as I
Stare at the sea foam blue scattered
Within your eyes
Becoming one with each and every
Shade that presents itself to me
I crave your touch but you neglect
Me and my desire
And I
Suddenly remembering
We are no longer
The beings
We once were

Call me naive.
Blinded by a honeymoon phase
and sickly sweet jest

Because I want to keep
this blindfold
pulled down over my eyes.

I don't want to know
what time it is—
day or night, stars and light —
but this comfort
wraps my body and glues me to my bed.

He likes me
He likes me, not
the me I always try and hide behind
but the me that's real.

And he's honey sweet
and golden feat,
how I managed to find him
I'll never know.

He tells me once
twice and again, actually,
that they couldn't have made
a better half for him in a lab
if they had tried.

I'd lift my blindfold to see
you and your gorgeous honey blue eyes
shining through the dark like a moon,
and what we bake together
might just be the most delicious cake maybe ever.

If my words were sugar
I could have told him then
and there, his lips on mine
tasted sweet.
Like everything he says to me.

But I'm bad at baking cakes with no sugar
and all the store had was keyboards and pens
so I wrote him this instead;

To my perfect other half,
Each joke you make resounds
laugh for laugh, I sculpt you a present
epitaph commemorating you... for you
with words, to say

I think...
I might love you?

You must
           remind  yourself
            everyday: That you
   alone  are  in  charge  of  your  
            happiness. You
                will not
    let anything outside
            of  yourself
                 control
                     you.

                You are
         creating  a  life
      that  feels  good  on  
the  inside  and  that  will  
   ­       be enough to
    turn into experiences
         that  are good
        on   the  outside.

               And when
       a negative thought
                                                                ­                     
  enters your mind, think
     three positive ones.
                   Train
           yourself to flip
               the script.
                                                         ­                                 Jon York   2019

Like the anger
Of fire
Shapes the metal
Like the sorrow
Of a writer
Creates poetry
Everything
That is
Beautiful
Doesn’t always
Start
Beautifully.