Is it okay...?
My sleep-glued eyes open to heaven,
Sun-lined-gold-bronze-back-of-you-breathing even,
The summation of my aspirations for this lifetime,
Is that okay?

I think I've reached that point
where

Feeling. Anything. Hurts ...

Listen,
I need to tell you something, I might be sinking
I love you, okay?

Quagmire

Sometimes my thoughts grow far from me, 
Like branches from the trunk of a grand oak tree,
I look up at them; they seem another entity,
I watch them and tire from this incredulity,
Elsewhere voices, my voices,  echo,  'could this be me?'
The space inside my head is a crowded place I cannot leave,
Wandering I wonder detachedly, the running reel,
A thought throbs in the background,  fleetingly,
Could any other but it's own flourish from the trunk of the ol' oak tree?

Some early-morning clarity served up in cut-crystal,
A penny drops,'clink-chink!!' echoing against the exhausting eternity of consciousness,
That maybe when the shot finds its mark, when the sleeping pill overdose takes its course,
when the footstool slips away from under feet, when the pavement rushes at the incoming skull,
when the bathwater turns crimson red, when the lungs have surrendered to asphyxiation by gas,
It is not this life that is traded for death, but the weight of all thoughts, all fears, all dreams, all hopes,
The accumulation of this emotional excess,  finally slides out of the once-throbbing chest...

TNT

Feeling the earth shudder under her feet once more,
She felt a strange kinship to a stone quarry,
Her three-dimensional landscape having been explored, sized up, drilled with explosive-laden holes and blown violently up to the sky, Just another source of construction material...
For those who now left behind a wasteland - an unsightly blemish on the panorama

Mice and men

It'll hold you together - my love that is a thing of absolutes, 
So that when I leave, it'll pied-piper away each and every piece of your being

 Strange are these humans, strange is their nature,' said one star to another
 The strangest perhaps they are when they tie their life with another,' said the other.
'Demons they seem to seek, where there are none to be found,
 experience cautions - much happiness in love a bad omen, it says,'
'Yet the most apparent demons -claws, fangs and all - shall no eye perceive,
 bleeding preferred to drowning, too deep in the ocean of love might they be seen,
'you see, to implode is a trait we thought we had mastered, for this is how we die,
 but burning out from within to without, is their way of being alive' the stars agree.

Origami Blossom

They say, you can fold a sheet of paper, no matter how big or small, only up to seven times
Didn't you know that?
Did you think you could stick your fingers in the back of your throat and throw up the bad taste in your pert mouth?
Did you think you escaped the infernos with just the wisps of black on your silken cheek, oblivious to soot-choked in your lungs?
Did you think you got away unscathed, seeing your pretty face in the mirror and not the scars of the gashes that used to be wings on your back?
Did the think the fallen stars in your eyes and the salt of your tears would anneal into tinted glasses and shield you from the glare?
Did you think you could start afresh? Start from scratch? Bury the hatchet? Turn the page?
My darling, my incurable fool, you hapless romantic, look at yourself? You have fingerprint-soiled creases all over...
Listen, hold on, stretch out and let your lungs breathe, don't you dare wait about,
Till you are all folded out...

Prose too prosaic for you

You hold a book, a book I love, it casts a shadow upon your face,
You burrow into words that have you smitten as they had me,

Your beautifully dense brows furrow and your eyes dart back and forth,

Devouring each page with a lusty appetite, you lean forward, completely taken,

It is probably nothing to anyone else, but you seem to me, most pervious,

You look like you should be touched, like you call for an embrace, that you are but to be loved,

With no real reason to help me understand, why in mundane activities, so star spangled you seem,

There is nothing to help me cope, with the feelings you draw out of me, why with you I’m malleable and ductile,

If there was a polaroid that could capture my life this moment, there you’d be reading, brown-gilded into sharp focus, everything else barely blurred noise ….

Three words too few

There are days when 'I love you', is not nearly enough, 

When I am battered for the words to tell you how I feel, 

There should be better words, words that sing, words that bleed, words that bloom and whither all at once, 

How about, 'I the-perfect-orb-of-your-shaven-head-is-my-world you'?

How about, 'I feel-liquid-when-you-gather-me-in-your-arms you'? 

How about, 'I my-fingers-search-for-you-to-touch-even-when-there's-no-you you'? 

How about, 'I laugh-at-our-post-coital-jokes-in-bed-alone you'?

How about, 'I can't-say-goodbye-not-for-five-minutes-of-separation you'?

How about, 'I your-voice-has-brought-me-back-to-life you'? 

How about, 'I would-wait-at-street-corners-forever-to-see-you you'?

How about, 'I can-hear-the-symphonies-in-our-silences you'?

How about, 'I stare-at-you-stare-at-me-and-the-world-stops you'? 

How about, 'I don't-wanna-wash-my-hair-to-preserve-your-scent you'?

How about, 'I will-never-let-go-of-a-world-you-are-in you'? 

How about, 'I love-you-will-never-be-enough-for-our-love you...'?

I knew I'd love you forever 

When my pencil started scribbling poetry

Instead of bucket lists 

The Silent Deep

For the longest time I believed that in loving as overwhelmingly as I do,

I was setting you up to fail, setting you up to falling short, 

It's taken me years to figure out that love was always meant to be an ocean, 

That looking at it you must think the world ends at the water's edge, 

That when love should feel like an amniotic sac, 

It took me years to figure out that it wasn't me, 

You just didn't have the sea legs to traverse my love 

Scalpel to the bone

The end of a bad relationship is quite like an amputation,
You endure severe trauma to the limb of your heart,
You keep at the macabre exercise till you cannot breathe, just cannot,
You closely probe the excruciating limb that is now infected with toxins of your hurt,

You do your best to infuse the limb with antidotes of self-reconciliation,

You methodically record your skin's pallor, your knotted stomach, your sunken eyes, 
You clinically note that your limb is dead and that it's poisoning the rest of you,
You mourn the limb and its years of servitude and its embittered death,
You pick up the glinting blade, bite down as hard as you can and slice right through, 

You survive

Flip-a-coin Love

Now we are one, I'm at peace yet not at peace, I'm miserable yet not at all, I'm bouyant yet I'm dragging my feet, I'm a believer yet I'm bullet-riddled with doubts, I'm both blessed and damned... I'm the ocean and the sky...What is love but a tousled paradox...? 

Shore to Shore

A hundred miles away from you and you're still here, 

Your voice is the original score of my mind's reel, 

I'm watching the tanned sun sink into the ocean bed,

My fingers trace our name as one, into the sand, again and again, 

I've told the ocean our secret, my love 

I watched her gather us to her ample chest, 

At every land she touches, every shore she kisses, in every drop she sweats, 

Our name will resound, again and again

The Fiend in the Night

Sinister shadows in the dark room, Shaped like empty palms,
Like lonesome waists, Like naked arms embracing nubilous night air,
These shadows, they find me, they find me, they find me...
I stay awake at night, soldier at attention, rifle drawn, eyes peeled,
I watch the clouds froth the starry-cauldron of the witching hours,
I lie in this bed of thorns, await the roseate silhouette of dawn, count the hours till morn,
I twiddle thumbs and bite nails through the sun's awakening epoch,
They will bring you to me, these rays, In day I will find you by my side again,
But I don't like these nights without you,
I am a child and the monster's under my bed, standing over my head,
It is filling me with an ensanguined, nauseating dread,
The night is no longer my friend,
Until I can be your lover again... 

No matter who you are, what you have seen,
If you are a lover and if your heart's beating to another's tune, 

I know two things about you, Lover 

You have found in yourself a dreamer 

You will find that time is your friend, never 

Wear down my veneer

I think all of us are always looking to be seen,

I think when we are drawn to someone,

We are so eager to be someone they see,

We don body paint that we think they can perceive, 

All the while hoping against hope, that they will call our bluff and wash off the paint, 

See us naked and love our mangled core,

So we can believe that we are invisible no more, 

Bodhi, my baby

'How do you know?' asked the angst-drenched, boy with the storm in his eyes and the petrichor-scented voice. 

And she with her purse full of painted bottles of regrets and custom-made masks, dropped her baggage into the abyss of yesterdays, her fingers meeting the curve of his face, intimately familiarly.

Her thirsty-mouth moved, 'I know, because there is peace in the crook of your neck, that sages traversed the earth to find, 

Because enveloped in your arms, I am a fledgling, emptied of fear, of doubt, of anger, of hurt, because when I see you I SEE you and I FIND me. 

Because, when you and I are US, you are not a storm and I am not a drought....'