If you leave, please stay where you have left to.

No sharks in the waters of your eyes.
No broken pens on the plane heading home.
No missing cards in the deck.
No long red lights and
No happy accidents.
No contrast for your happiness.
*Flying over the French alps but all I see are plateaus.

You were the kind of weird
That said hello to strangers
Who did not want to be said hello to
And the kind of weird that
Sat in your mouth for a week
Under your tongue while you stewed the decision
Do I introduce you to my normal friends?
And the kind of weird which
Sat on the couch and stopped talking to me
On our first night together
Just to stare out of my window
In a melodrama fashion that I am guilty of hating
But guilty of once enjoying on you.
The kind of weird which
Intrigued me enough to let you in to
My bed—as well as other things—
After your eyes returned from the window on
That first night together.
You were, however, the kind of normal which
Took me in and never talked to me again. Not kind at all, but normal, very normal.

The history of your heart strings,
The singing of angels,
Stained glass, church bells.

You call my name and I am found:
Retracing all of my steps until I find
The ones I took beside you.

Musei Vaticani may be meaningful, however
I would rather pace the hallways of
the thin spaces that part the seas of your fingers.

Maybe Michaelangelo was wrong
The creation of man isn't meant for Sistine ceilings but the head of our beds.