I am not welcome
But to those
Who want to hide

Who want to be held
In my frigid
Whispy arms

Lost in the depths
Of a soft
Floating cloud

The thick
Moist cloak
That veils the earth

The eerie
Beautiful covering
Wavering and hovering

I am the mist

A dream that encompasses me
The smallest things have such beauty

Walking down a dark street
Nothing to be seen
Shrouded in silence

Dancing in the rain
Drops caressing your lips
Kind eyes shining bright

A stroll in the woods
Everything connected
Speaking nothing, hearing everything

Laying upon the earth
Feeling it spin beneath
Smelling that sweet smell

I love to be alive
See all the beauty life has to offer
Isn't it funny
The simplest of things much more beautiful spent with you

I have recently became aware,
And realized it to be unfair,
That most poems I write are about me.
This is only by chance, not how I choose it to be.
And if this wasn't a big enough clue.
This poem I've begun, will be about you.
Happy doesn't describe what I am with you.
I never thought a boy could complete me, but you do.
When you look at me I always feel that spark.
A day without you is a day in the dark.
My love for you lives deep in my heart.
If you were to go , you'd tear me apart.
I long to hear your voice ring on my ears.
It's the only voice that could bring me to tears.
I never thought I could love this much.
Constantly, I am longing for your touch.
You really were made for me, and I for you.
You've always let me know you love me too.
It's truly unbelievable the way that I feel.
And it's really to bad that you aren't even real

I want your hands to search me
For the response I'm reluctant to give
Answer all your questions with the perfect touch
While my lips remain locked

With other boys still lingering under my tongue
I'll kiss you like lightning
To make you taste your name.

I had a dream we shared cigarettes
and talked for hours in a waffle house
and our coffee got cold
and we laughed about it.
I tried to show you constellations from my driveway
but the clouds covered everything
except the little dipper.
You kissed my fingers
when I held your hand.
I woke up happy
despite
three hours of sleep.

Nietzsche was right god is dead
I'm kissing a broken record
Who won't stop playing in my head
Forget English let's talk body language
I want to touch every curve that makes you uniquely you
And wake up with kisses on a Saturday afternoon
Pick me
pick me
pick me please
To be
         Tangled
                        Up
                              ­With
                                       You
                                              .

I had a dream
That we went to a museum
Full of nothing but
e.e Cummings paintings and
ashtrays for our convenience
With interlocked fingers and sweating palms
I kissed you on a spiral staircase
Leading down
To a swimming pool
Where we sank like stones
Without our clothes
And I'm sure I kissed you there too