Rain kisses the pavement
Cigarette burnt fingertips
Your warmth is god sent
I taste the salt on your lips

Black umbrellas line the streets
Clam chowder and baguette air
Like a child tucked beneath crisp sheets
Adoration the only stitch I wear

Pacific Ocean’s salt
Rain soaked cheeks
Coy, loving, exalted
We could’ve survived like this for weeks

I've heard of a place where it only rains
Between the dawns and dusks
So lilac, red, and orange hues
Can stream across the sky.

I know of a place where the thunderstorms
Are hushed and far away
So children can be lulled to dream
Of lions--placid, calm.

I've been to a place where there are no floods,
No torrents, and no hail,
Where lovers sit in the drizzle-falls
And dream in the pleasant chill.

I live in a place where the rain is sweet
And the river gently rolls
Where wind's eternal lazy glide
Turns fields to wide jade seas.

I'll rest in a place where the rain is light
And bluebirds greet the sun,
And the days that passed my windowsill
I'll see yet from my tomb.

gentle, like the
                         dips, and
                                         grooves,
and soft protrusions of a skeleton,
but more alive, like muscle tissue
over my skull; woolen proteins
fortifying my ears against chill,
keeping my hair stretched taut
against my scalp and finishing
with a flourish of purled texture
cascading abruptly to my neck.

i liked it because it matched
       the lining of my jacket,
       it tied my reds together,

i liked it because it made me
      stick out like a sore thumb
      looking to catch a ride to
      San Francisco or detention,

i liked it because it caught me up
      in the eight legs of disapproval,
      (even though they respected me
      in the utmost, they still tripped
      me something fierce)

i liked it because it taught me selflessly
      never to wear it again.

I wish it weren’t so easy to write
Love poems.

Wandering hallways filled with
storm clouds
Crave the rain.
No black and white
Just gray.
Gray like smoke.
Where there’s smoke there’s fire
But which came first?
The cigarette smoker or the death desire?
Gray like lifetimes of retries.
With desire.
Just first dates and heart breaks.

I wish it weren’t so easy to write
Love poems.

I am more than my feelings
For the reality of
Rare chemistry.
Scientific equations remain unexplained
Within the hunger
in my veins.
Reactions create
flames and puffs of gray
Which came first?
The old age or the decision to retire?
I take a step backward
Towards the forest fortress
On fire.

I wish it weren’t so easy to write
Love poems.

Balancing act amongst smoke
Gray and black
Which came first
The casualty or the decision to attack?
Victory is idealistic
Affection selfish
Monotony is paradise
If desire should allow me
Just shotgun shells
And love letter confetti
We left one another
******
For the sake of trust retries
With the firey empire

I wish it weren’t so easy to write
Love poems

You know the way I took it,
At the break of dawn
You know how I slid from your window sill,
Like the gold flakes from my fingernails,
Fandango in the bluing sky

You knew when you awoke,
Rubbing cobwebs from your cracks
When you looked to see it gone,
The gun into your mind

Surely someone clever as you,
Would never let it sit
For a replayed taboo like me,
To steal it as you slept

Your periscope eyes have found me,
Hurdling from the howling woods,
Deep with festers
From your pets

You, you scrawny herbivore
While I eat carnage
Tangy and red
You, it seems, possess some bravery

When you shot those mind bullets
Pushing through my back
But you missed, my dear
You missed

Or was it just your intent
To slash
And torment
Instead?

But you missed, my dear
You missed

--Lily