Intimacy Over All

Moments of intimacy
constantly stolen from us.
Taken by conventions,
by norms,
by people
and last of all,
when all of those others
have finally been abated or appeased
Sleep grabs onto the moment
and tears it from us
Like a child torn from
a Mother's arms.
Stolen.

We must escape
to be where we want
to have and hold,
we must escape.
Our vows can't hold the sway
that we attached them with —
we promised to be one,
but these forces tear at us.
But, being one absolutely,
to meld together,
like glass blown
or metal in the smith's fire,
that was the call,
our charge.

So let's run away,
just you and I.
Forget the world,
and live under the sky.
Not two, but one.
Manifest in you and I.

Those words aren't meaningless,
we just have to choose
if we want what we promised.
I do.

#2

Standing alone in the crowd
a world apart from those around.
Face to the floor,
Tears on the ground.
Falling.

A phone call changed this world
that minutes before had been full and vibrant.
The sweat and the Heat—
music coming from the stage.
Staring into her eyes
as we danced to the sound
losing ourselves in rhythm
and sound.
Sweat tricked down our backs.
Oh the heat—
the fire—
the passion in her eyes.
Arms sliding over each other
touching our skin against each other
as the performers attempted
cheap imitation of the raw
energy that we held between
our bodies—
crackling as we came closer
allowing us to feel
in ways never before
experienced in life.
Our souls dreamed together
as one,
wending and weaving
us together.
Stitched together tightly
like fabric woven of dreams —

Then a disruption in the field,
something to be found and purged
quickly. Nothing should stop what
is being created, the pattern was too
glorious to behold. Yet it persisted.

A phone buzzed in her pocket.
A call that was answered.
Quick words exchanged,
and a look on her face.
More intense than what now dissipated
between us.
And suddenly I knew
the other end of the call held
a happiness, a feeling, something
that this fabric of dreams
that I had integrated into my soul
was not enough to
be the color of hers.

I said it was fine —
But it wasn't.

And now, alone in the crowd,
on a night that was meaning so much to me.
Suddenly standing in an empty frame.
The music held no dream,
the crowd was meaninglessly pressing
and my heart was left
beating on the ground
where she once stood.

When she crawled into bed with me
that night, I never said a word.
Her happiness meant more to me,
and I still can't live without her.

Life is Real

What is real?
That which our senses touch?
But our senses are constantly
manipulated by the chemistry of
our bodies.
Is it the world seen
only when awake?
Then why would we dream?
Or, more encompassing,
why can it not
be defined as everything
that happens to us.

Hands/Love

I know that I
could reach out my hand
at any time
and you will lock
your fingers into mine
and squeeze tightly,
a physical means of saying
“I love you”.

An Attempt at Understanding

What matters to people
is often so irrelevant.
Where I was born
does not define
who I am.
Neither does a slice
of my genetics
that determines the pigment
of my hair —
my eyes —
my skin.
Why would color of this
be the only part
that defines me.
Why are those
random and senseless
bits of information
linked so intrinsically
in the minds of people,
how could it matter?
I am,
and I am strong
as I am
because of what
I have learned
not from where I
came from.
Isn't that enough?
Shouldn't it be
enough
for acceptance
as an equal —
we are all people.
There is no further
distinction needed.
We are all people,
and it has always
been more than enough
for me to see
without malice
or guile
or hate.
Why can't we all?

A Broken Line

I had walked a broken line, often stumbling
along the way. I had kept my eyes
upon the ground for every step and sway.
The Earth beneath my feet was all that
I cared to see, never did I watch
the course on which my feet carried me.

The path grew darker underfoot
The ground grew dark and cold.
Every step a gradual change,
one I never noticed coming on.
The path grew rocky, the terrain rough,
but still I didn't chance look up.

Then Quicky as though lifted from a trance
I popped my eyes up off the ground.
I saw no path from where I came,
nor anything to mark my journey.
I was cold, broken, and alone—
I saw no way that would lead out.

I stood alone, yet resolute.
My eyes were raised that day.
No longer would my broken line
Be drawn without my say.
Then as my choice was made
a light showed me the first steps on my way.

A Sudden Loss

It hasn't been so long,
yet my heart is tearing.
My voice has left me.
I've begun to shake.
Tears keep lining the bottom
of my vision adding
a surrealistic haze
over half the world.
It's only been minutes
or was it hours,
maybe days,
possibly months,
or years
since I last heard
a single syllable
come forth from your mouth.
It's too much to bear,
being apart like this.
My heart screams that
this is wrong.
Some where I picked up
a slurry of liquid nitro,
filling my chest. Completely
numbing me. Creating nothing
where once there was
vibrant life.
This empty cavity
that once held dreams
of everlasting life
of marriage
of children
of beauty
of hope.
Now is a dark pit
that consumes my very
essence.
And my only hope
is that it succeeds
for I cannot live
without you.