Briefness

I don't understand
God. I am
unsure where it is,
Heaven. I'm here
drinking and laughing with
You. And, I feel
as if this present feeling is
Eternity. Now,
let's not worry for nothing.

Ice

You taste like last night's
wine. It's sweet and old
this connection we're drinking.
How long is your patient
smirk, when you're right and
you know it? I watch you
all night, through the others
wondering how long
it last. This love
bubbles red in my cheeks,
and I grow warm. Feeling myself
getting bold, I open
my mouth and breath in. You
make the air seem muggy and
building. To what tempature
will we melt away?

Dreams of You

You were in my dreams,
long ago, before
I knew what you were,
before I knew of sacrifice,
way before I understood
the great struggle of love.
There you were,
all your trembling attributes
playing through my youthful
mind. You encompass it,
all the hopes and temptations
and mornings alone.
You're the perfect man,
with all your mistakes and
blushed cheeks. Don't change
your sight of this world
or me, please.

Time Holds Tightly

We don't have tomorrow
At least not clearly
Your smell changes so fast
I hold you dearly
Could never have known you
Our time goes blury
This is a current love
And it taste sweetly
I like to dance with you
The world spins quickly
Will you hold onto me
I grab back fiercely
I haven't checked the clock
But time holds tightly

Love is Not

Love is not miniscule agreements
But it is simple understanding
That I will meet you, if you meet me
No matter where we're standing

Love can't be performed for me
There is no list of how to do
It's someone lost and someone worried
You find me, and I'll find you

Call it Home

What does it take to own
a space? How do you create
something tangible out of
an idea? Do I change it?
Rearrange the furniture
and fence in the perimeter?
I like to remember those
ladies of my youth, who
couldn't see things they
didn't own. They stood in
crowds with ease and
belonged, no not belonged,
controlled. This was their audience,
to gaze at their poise,
to wonder at their confidence.
And, noone ever questioned
their validity in this space,
their ownership of it.

Youth Aflame

These years are written
in the sand, right on water's edge.
It is late nights, before
the tides rush in, before
the sun burst open
to reveal us. It is here,
in the darkness, where we find
each other and ourselves.
Sometimes I get nervous,
I see that the vastness
of water nipping at our scripts,
and I wonder of the future
of this. But, then I see your face,
all of you, burning smiles and
half shut eyes. That's what youth is,
burning. Written on parchment
and thrown into hot coals,
our skin slowly browns and withers,
but we go on burning.