the ocean felt much remorse
for the ships she’d drowned
trying to help them cross her
waters as gently as she could.

The law said her body was made for love
The kind of love that wants to show you
just how much it loves you
by sticking things inside of you

hard
fast

Then slower

The kind of love that wanted to make the bible blush
make you quiver; the
kind of love when you put a female and male hamster together.
The kind of love that wanted to make music out of your ******

Love said "This is what happens
when you use
Needles to ingrain the words love
on peoples skin"

It feels a lot like pain did

Like when the first boy you ever loved
said I love you back
And proved it because he held you after
sticking sticky things inside of you
Like how he said hed wait untill you were ready
then said "You're gonna make me wait forever.."

How that guy on the third date said
"Come back to my apartament
So I can put what I want into you
Until you are empty
Because we might call it love"

Until you met a boy
who untaught what the word love meant
never asked you when you wanted to have ***
whose hands never roamed as greedily
searching for places to settle on your body
who didnt wish to make a home out of you by filling you senseless
and calling it his furniture
art
who traced outlines of constellations on the palms of your hands
and played
"Guess the Nebula"

Whose hardness never prodded you in the back
like a protest
in the early morning
whose breath always came easy
never hard
or fast

It was just holding you with no intention to
*******

He said
"Love isnt what you put inside a person
In hopes of making it stick;and naming it after something beautiful
I can pin my thoughts on you but
you are not my canvas. That wouldnt be fair.
I respect your property."

There was nothing broken when he left.

every word that comes tumbling out
of your superfluous lips
is loaded with wholesome irreverence,
weighing leaded and cruel upon my heart
by the pale recycled light of the moon.

déjà vu lingers before my bleary eyes
again,
as crumbs of flightlessness
slip through my fingers, again.
and I can see you unfolding us,
dissecting us, laying out all of the pieces
in a heart-wrenching vivisection.

and I know you can't really **** something
that's been near death for years,
but when do you give up
on resuscitation?

I cant dismiss this aching uncertainty
It's wrenching my mind deceiving my senses
At best I half knowingly make it threw each day
My next step uncertain whether stair is present
Leaving my leg often stunted
My heart has floated out to sea and at times
I feel it emerge from such great depth
Back to haunt and drown me
I try to **** it and keep it without me
The cause of so much sleeplessness
Choosing not to feel the pain nor strain
Only to have it return with such vengeance
Leaving me breathless
I sat and watched the time for change grow massive

Days feel like years
Nights feel like centuries.
The loneliness creeps in like a stormy day.
The feeling inside is as quiet as can be, crying out loud without a sound.
Weeping without tears, feeling like nothing can be worse.

Then I think of you and close my eyes and feel the warmth of your arms.
The love you give me is like being submerged in the ocean,
it is undefined and infinite.
As big as the sea yet as simple as sand.

I calm down, knowing that everything will get better.
Trusting you is what makes me strong as a rock.
It keeps me living life and enjoying the little things that no one sees.
The lonely nights turn into nights of love and comfort.

You are all I need... You are all I need...
When I feel lonely, I sit in bed and just close my eyes and talk to you,
because I know you hear me, because I know you care, because I know you love.
I wait patiently for your answer...
I know my prayers will be answered if I trust in you.

When i'm lonely, I look to you, and feel peace.

Because when I feel as lonely as a feather...

You are my best friend.

An artful liar, his words beautifully cheat all,
speaks nonsense any one can believe
with  consummate flair, sees the essence without effort,
it fits well in metaphors and imageries galore,
he has wings to fly anywhere with ease, see things up close.
The  wind of imagination he blows makes waves,
he is taken to  ecstatic heights riding on  its crest,
yet he doesn't accept, when they call him a poet,
"Just at those moments I am inspired" he says"call me a poet,
not all the time I am one, being a poet is not a profession
but an attribute others bestow on one, out of appreciation"

The door opening to eternity's sky, on which cupid's invitation is written:woman,
man, the primordial gush,yearning to create future, pushing the door open for fruition.
In the hurry to perform in the grand opera, both part-players exceed nature's codes,
they both, alas! miss often the mission of love, and don't ensue smooth succession.