Excited as a child on Christmas,
with footed pajamas,
and ***** hair,
am I to learn love with you.
Wayside wrapping paper unearths broken defenses and inhibition.
I am a present waiting for your truth to unbox and set free.

Sometimes I write in my head, reminding my self that liberty and truth are self acknowledged That art birthed free form is better than lines and periods and commas I write to myself when I forget to breathe and love I loose track of letters and words  and hold pictures and smell tightly as newborn to ****** at feeding time I save the best for my inside memories I bend the curves of myself and plant seeds of inspiration for the drought season where I think more than I write.

I find myself breathing to your tempo/ searching my heart for secrets hidden/ I love to hate loving you/ you are my biggest mystery/ deepest regret/ unconsciously beautiful//

Dance with me in the eye of the candle/ tell me what you see/ does it match loves drunken sketch in the ceiling above//

I know what we are/ we are tiptoes afraid of landing/unfolded possibility open for the picking//

I want to give you my heartbeats/ finger paint my love in the edges of your soul/ can I love you abyss deep/ hold you as a child birthed from gravity/ could we be pregnant with possibility/ I close my eyes holding my breathe willing time to still/ I want to balance on the fibers of chance and forbearance/ for you I will wait in the stillness of dawn/never counting the raising suns/ but forever embracing the warmth of each day/ Hopeful. Patient. Non-searching//

Cages fail in their attempt to hold beauty/ as sand from hand it slips/ slips from time taking shape in chance and impact/ funny how a cage traps the body/ yet the mind traps the soul//

You are the cold block to fan on a hot summer day/ the deep rooted bass to a funky note/ the swing of my hip/tap to foot/ you are poetry written to midnight rain/ my push to pull/ my unravelling/ you are love ripping the seams to a tightly woven dress//