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 Jul 2014 m
LittleFreeBird
My hands tremble
It has been too long
My heart is raw
And my lips are dry
Parched
Thirsty
My stomachs twists
I am starving  
With a kind of need
That cannot be satisfied
By dreams and played back memories
No.  
My body
Is craving
You
 Jul 2014 m
LittleFreeBird
Feel the heat from your skin
Brushing but never touching
Inhaling the air from your lungs
Sweet as nectar on my tongue
My entire being
Hungers for just a taste
Just a little
Of what you are
 Jul 2014 m
LittleFreeBird
As we lay
Breathing each other’s oxygen
And wearing each other’s skin
You search my eyes
Asking the one question
That I can never answer you
"Why me?"
How do I tell you
That I do not know
I cannot say
What exactly
Causes my heart to race
My blood to boil
And my arms to ache for you
I cannot say what it is
That so enraptured me
In the first place
My love for you
Did not come violently
It was as gentle
As subtle
As calm
As the stroke of a butterfly's wing
Quietly it captured me
Folding me inside it's self
And I was consumed
But not destroyed
I chose to jump
But had no choice in falling
I cannot say why I love you
I like to think it is the little things
The rich sound of your laugh
A deep rumble in your chest
The way your fingers dance across the keys
And the melody they sing
Maybe it is
The way the sun catches your lashes
And swims in your eyes
The intensity with which you feel everything
And the open honesty
That comes so naturally
Or is it
The child like curiosity
To know everything
To understand what is beyond you
The stubborn
Willful side
That refuses to stop trying
The humor and good nature
That eases any burdens on my heart
Perhaps
It is all these little things
Perhaps,
Darling,
It is simply because
You are you
And that
Is more than enough.
 Jul 2014 m
Stellar
Love Is
 Jul 2014 m
Stellar
Love*  is
kissing her tender lips
like they're made from the gods,
divine, palatable yet frigid and cold
Love  is
ripping her chest apart
only to find a labyrinth that led to home
─but never the place to call your own
Love  is
leaving a note on her coffee table
saying *I
  love  you
but
I  told  you  so
Love  is
­turning her into a beautiful poetry
without crushing her soul,
without tormenting her ego
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