floating aimlessly along a river
headed no where.
to live in such a state
absent of direction
would be
unattainable bliss

swollen cheeks
and bellies
dancing with the
succulent satisfaction of being filled.
but i am empty.
my palms desolate deserts searching
for the source of energy
to quell my wandering soul.
yearning for deeper connections
and a sink
to upheave the
dry heaves
of lonely
nothings.

there are no words
for long strangled hair
cascading down a naked spine
all pale and freckled.
only soft murmurs spoken between two hearts
and imploring eyes that delve down to the core
of our bare vulnerable insides.
bodies move like the wings of birds
coming together
coming apart
a story written in honey
to be burned onto tongues
dissipating in the pure
ecstasy of moments
snuggled in between shoulders
resting side by side
and that long contented sigh
when it's over
that stretches a blanket
over the room
holding me
and you

rain is a veil
that shrouds me
from the world.
the world that hurts and scorns
and says what you are
but not what you wish.
that you want to be
a warm smile
in the yellowed pages of a dusty book,
or the streaks of sunlight that pierces through
a room of gloom,
painting stripes on the whitewashed walls.
yet the rain cannot drown out the sounds
echoing all around
"outsider outsider"
lonely and scabbed over

you didn't wish to see me today
and i wilt in shadows.
for you, my sun,
did not embrace me with your rays.

i felt sad today.
i painted the walls blue
and sat down in front of the window,
searching for you.

you were beveled glass
carved out of sunlight
and you burned into my irises
contracting against the intensity
of your presence.
sometimes it still gets like that.
brief moments where your beauty over powers
and in more ways than one
i'm lost in a temporary blindness.