My body shutters
     When you speak your heart to me
         As if it were starved
              From a lifetime of loneliness.
                           ..but it is not..
               I have had love
        passion
loyalty
And yet when your lips part
     to utter the words I so crave
          I find myself shivering
               in the warmth of your breath.
Does this make me fickle,
                              fast,
                     ­    selfish, perhaps?
Or is this just the way of love
         to provide the sensation
               of purity
                   and ignorance.
Sometimes,
       I fear I may seem insincere
            if I say
                you are the only one
                      I have ever felt this for.
And yet, it's true!
       I have not felt the love
             I feel with you
                    ever before.
I have never looked into these eyes
                your eyes
                      before this moment.
I have never known
      a kiss to taste this sweet
          before the moment
              your lips touched mine.
And I have never known
                 your love
                      until the moment
                            you fell
                                 for me.

To see the glide of the razor upon your skin was ecstasy,
To see it groom and care
Rather than slice and tear
Was something out of dreams
In that moment I felt like a Woman
Who loves a Man.

You could illuminate as bright as the North Star
but you're settling for a shine as insignificant as
a street light in a crowded city.

I want to feel the breeze upon my face
from high upon the mountain once again
I wish to know the shape of your lips,
the touch of your hands,
and the smell of you near me
once more,
Could we speak,
once in a while,
to know your voice
in more than just a fading memory.
I do try,
to remember the texture my fingers felt,
on that day of love we spent.
Coconut oil on your face,
making my hands stick
and gliding across my cheek
both soft from the oil
and hard from the stubble.
I do try,
to believe in what you said
in that letter I have not read
for too long now it seems.
I ask myself why,
and the only real answer i receive
deep between the memories,
is that it hurts,
no more,
I cannot go on
living this way
holding onto a memory as if it were you.
Is not that what I said you did to her?
Perhaps I am seeing,
the other side of that coin.
Perhaps I can now understand you more.
And yet with all of this,
with my fear of reading the words you hurriedly re-wrote
on my day of leaving,
that you cried when you read to me
I still continue to avoid those words.
Perhaps the reality is too sweet,
daily life too mundane,
my fears suffocating
and my illusions are satisfying for now.

For what is a broken heart,
       than one which has not been loved?
We treat them as broken
                   fingers
                        and
                           toes.
With wires tied around
         hearts
And words meant
            for
        nothing,
           when said
                  for
                     love.
Nothing is more befitting,
       the cynic's smile
          than a bottle of wine
               and a "you cant always take people on their word".

I bow to you,
    my Lion King
As you lie graceful and bare,
     on the grass of Time,
  with hand on heart,
    you look to me
as I look to you,
        do you see me?
To caress those spaces
     in between words
            and know
     the very essence of a
                 soul...
Beauty behold,
     this man
not carved from wood or stone,
        but flesh and bone,
so fragile yet so bold.
Would your eyes be humbled
      if they could,
for he still turns away at your gaze.
      But stand full force to mine.
This mighty Lion King,
        with Mother's eyes,
   and Father's sky.