i'm no good with talking-
that's something that comes out of
my mouth like gnats.
awkward, rather unpleasant.
writing, yes.
i can write a bit.
essays, no
speeches, no
stories, no.
but poetry,
i write that for you.
my poems speak my heart
because it has no voice box.
i think i've always known i'd find you,
always known that these poems floating
inside me
were for you.
i've always known i'd love you.

this is how i say thank you
this is how i let you know
that the pancakes you make taste like gold
and your eyes say that they love me
over and over.

boys come through my life
like pennies facing backwards

you are so much more
so much more
so much
more.
gosh
i have these feelings,
THESE FEELINGS
i've never felt
you put them there,
like you lay blankets over me when i'm sleeping,
how you rub your thumb
along my cheek
sweet, darling, sweet.

you build me up higher than
mountain tops
gosh
i have these feelings
and here's your poem. they're all for you.
because all this love
-that's what i'm feeling-
it's for you too.

laughing
touching sun rays
with bare feet
bare promises
with no spine
crushed and dragging
leaving a trail of scarlet
dying beautifully,
if you look at me
i'll die beautifully.

i get this feeling
like when you see a senior citizen eating alone
knowing that they've lost the ones they loved
knowing one day we will too.
the youth that thinks we cannot die
that for some reason life is only
immortal for us.
i'm sure that old man thought the same.
and here he is wrinkled
with empty chairs
for company.

my room holds your scent
like it's another being,
forming hands and lips
winking at me from under warm bed sheets
it whispers your name
a desire i've always known
but couldn't put words to it.
an unspoken holiness
,your name,
and i find my fingers steepling together
to kneel in prayer,
thank you for leaving
and always coming back
to give your smell
/ a body /
and a mouth.

days like these
i feel comatose.
a sleeping beauty
in a coffin.

a death of eternity
..not new
or waking,
a floating enigma
defying                 logistics
      a tiny winter scene
trapped inside a snowglobe

never changing
cold and wet
                          yes wet like her lips
as she strikes a damp match
didn't you know, it won't catch

      warmth is gone from this place
the dark                                      dragging days
snatching
the light
from lidless           eyes.

as a human race
we strive to achieve the unattainable.
to play god;
to become god.
but what we don't understand-
is that we are unraveling
every bit
of ourselves in the process.
morphing into fallen angels
lost from good graces
  and trapped in cold
empty undergrounds
moving backwards
instead
of

   looking
up

it was my birthday and we were
walking at 6 am
in a grocery store parking lot
you bought me flowers
and above our heads
the sun was rising
and the sky lit up
with streaks of pink,
like it was being awakened,
coming alive.
that's how my insides felt,
as your fingers wiggled between mine,
and the flock of birds
ricocheted beyond the purple clouds
as we both looked up
and i was struck again with the thought
that you and i
would share this love forever.