All I have is a photograph
and a blank page with your name,
our lives have clearly changed,
but my heart still feels the same.

So I write down a few scattered lines,
and add a chord or two,
just trying to make new memories of you.

I'll play this song beneath the stars,
watch it dance into the sky.
If on the wind my words do fly,
then you'll hear my lullaby.

Will you look above and think of me
as a shooting star breaks through,
maybe words will make wishes come true.

Now I have a brand new page
with a picture, poem, and song.
I know it's been so long,
but my love's still standing strong.

If a picture paints a thousand words
then this poem will never do,
but I want to make new memories with you.

i. I don’t know your favorite color but I know you love the blue-green complexion of the ocean washing up on the beige grains of sand; the reds, oranges, and yellows of the leaves softly and swiftly falling to the ground at the close of autumn; the green blades of grass blowing calmly with the summer wind; the golden brown shimmer of my eyes caught in passing rays of sunlight.

ii. Sometimes I try counting the scars on your body as if they were the stars lighting up the beautiful night sky. I find that each one, like a single star in a constellation, makes you more beautiful than the last.

ii.b. Stars are dead, their light only a mere representation of what once actually was. Your scars are evidence that you are a part of the human experience; death is proof of life. Your story is one that I can’t put down.

iii. Your melody meets my ears like the soft waves of summer meet the shoreline. Your voice, a love song with all the right notes, engulfs me entirely. You are a ballad I play endlessly. Sometimes I think my ears can only hear your symphony. I get lost in your voice.

iv. The touch of your hand warms mine as if it’s a crackling fire in the dead of winter; a flame I find complete comfort in. I wonder if two things have ever fit together so perfectly before.

iv.b. Two things have never fit together so perfectly before.

v. You are a home made up of muscles, skin, and bones. Your presence is reminiscent of lazy nights on the beach and long car rides with the music blasting; I am at ease whenever I am with you. I am safe. I am home.

...I can try all I want to describe your love but no words that I say will ever do it justice.

You are the closest I've ever come to seeing space up close.
With the multitude of galaxies in your eyes,
And the way light bounces off your honey-hued skin,
I'm convinced you were raised amongst the stars.

Did you not spend your younger days hitching rides on passing comets,
And catching asteroids like fireflies in the palms of your hands?
Are you sure you didn't take a bite out of the sun
Leaving its embers stuck between your teeth?

I think the universe is smiling right now,
Knowing that a piece of it is safe and living here; glowing ever so brightly.

And if my chest is an open window,
I know that it's you pouring through it.

I missed him not in raindrops,
But in roaring tidal waves.
We were wild.

I missed him not in breezes,
But in dizzy hurricanes.
We were crazy.

I missed him not in a bouquet,
But in a maze of flower gardens.
We were lost.

I missed him not in a cloud,
But in the heavens above.
We were ethereal.

I missed him not in a rain puddle,
But in the lakes and seas.
We were deep.

I missed him not in the new world,
But in historical lands.
And up to this day, it's still the same,
We are classic.

You smell of what you smoke,
I breathe you in deeply
enough it makes me float.

His head in exhaled clouds;
slipped into reverie of me;
ensnared and spellbound.

Puffed into a trance;
vaporized reality;
my face caressed by his hands.

Baby let me course through you
like your almond tobacco
--sensation you never knew.