You walked
          back  into  my  life
                    for the
            second time like
                  you had
          always lived there,
              like my heart
      was a home built just
                    for you.

            Here  I  was. . .
            thinking
            magic didn't really
            exist,
            and now that's
            all I see
             when I
             look  at  you.

            And in
            the middle
            of my chaos
            there
            you are.
And  in  your  eyes  is a  beautiful  poem                                                                  ­                    Jon York   2019

curved eyes,
so constant.
constraining sadness,
i abide.
lift her chin,
a closet mist.
patrons pardon while she's his,
tangled torture met his sin.
belly met with gentle hands,
lower, where he met his kin,
questioned as to leave them in.
starved, an aftermath begins.
his soul brought forth,
his whole life within.

to do
on your to-do list
one more phone call
to make
after the end
of another long day
one more email
to read
when your eyes
were already blurry
one more person
to squeeze in
a busy schedule
that has
no room
you were
her everything
until
she became
one more thing