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I wake in the belly of a poem.
Wading into watercolor
And a twisting labyrinth
Of Boston ivy.
I can't see through this fog
But it can see through me.
Words like pollen glide
On the wind and
Guide me like fireflies to
A sanctuary of wildflowers.
Here, everything speaks
To me, fluent in my native tongue.
Inhale, exhale, repeat until there's peace.
Bonsai at my feet as if
My toes are whispering to the roots:
"Grow, blossom, thrive",
And I will learn to
Take my own advice.
We laugh and stumble
Through crowded streets,
Your eyes on the lights
And mine on you.

A soft, sweet kiss
From ***-stained lips;
The pulse of the city
Flowing through neon veins.

Intoxicated by the music,
                   My love,
                     Maybe even
                       The double *** and coke.

Cracking jokes in an
Eggshell shower; spilling
Our future on to the floor
For the universe to take note.
He sits
Contemplating the meaning,
Swinging on the spiral,
Until it all
Makes sense.

He screams,
Voices from every
Crevice of this Earth
Crave attention and
Beckon him.

He cries
Diamond tears from
Kyanite eyes as colors
Manifest in ways
Once unknown.

He stares
In awe of
The power the universe
Gifted to him
Through fear.

He recognizes
These paper walls,
This foil rooftop and
Questions it's lack
Of authenticity.

He feels
The comedown and
His conscience crash land,
But still, the
Changes remain.

He sits
Folding his mind
Into an oragami swan,
Hoping it won't
Fly away.
I like the way your

lips feel, pressed to my collar.

I like the way your

fingertips dance on my skin,

like it's what they're meant to do.
On this Earth, there are
millions of people that
walk these moonlit streets.
And nothing compares to the
favor the moon has for you.
You're so magical, and the moon is envious.
I love the sight of
flower petals on creased sheets;
they remind me of
how you'd undress and expose
my bare skin to the spring sun.
Don't fall for any
fantasy you have of me.
I am real and I
am dressed in imperfection.
I hope you won't feel let down.
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