Naivety or How It Should Be?

I feel you enter my soul.
I want to enter yours.

As breathing gets faster and harder,
as spiders take over my veins,
I'm intoxicated.
You're all I see.
You're all I want.

This is more than just physical.
I feel you deep in my soul in a different way.
This is how it should be.
This is what I was searching for.
There's more here. 

Eyes lock and roll back again.
Shivers run down spines.
breath cut short
backs arch
and the moment fills us
but does not control.

The sweet bond of such passion.
Under our control.
Meant for more than just the act.

If I Leave, I Bet You'd Wish I'd Stayed

I've collected vertebrates and fossilized teeth,
not to show you how creepy I am,
but to show you I've thought of you.

Every day since your magic water made the earth spring to life.
Your geo-something, something.
I swear I'd learn the proper verbiage if given one more afternoon.

Still, these hands won't stop shaking,
because I've been driving for 14 hours straight.
Screaming my lungs out to the wilderness about a lover 800 miles away.

Hairpin turns at 85 mph,
I'm playing Russin Roulette to some stupid ballads
That I hope for the sake of sick fate get stuck in your head.

30 Second Elevator Talk

Why do I believe in what you're not?

Why am I holding on to a life I should be letting go?

I suppose it's all about belief.
Maybe belief,
Maybe denial,
Maybe it's hope.

30 Second Elevator Talk:
I didn't want you to leave.
And I'm still angry with the way that you did it.
But I'm happy that you did.
And I'm proud of what you've done.
I'm happy that you're happy.
And I wish I wasn't still so full of holes and cracks,
so I could be there to see how strong you've grown.
Just know that these holes and cracks I'm holding onto are for you,
and I'm filling them with beautiful plants and flowers to make myself strong.

I think we were lovers in a past life.
That's why I can't get you out of my mind.
Why I feel this tether in my core perpetually tugging me toward the coastline.

2 sentences.
Or 2 statements of being
Or 2 questions
And a scrambled 30 second elevator talk

Being tattooed on a soul
means more than a skeleton key tattooed on a hide.

one last song

Just sing a song for me
Something soft and sweet
Just like you used to do
When we were young and free

You can add your beats
And you can add your pain
You can change my name
But, baby sing to me

Sing me a magic tune
To stop me in my tracks
Your voice it softens me
And melts my soul right through these cracks

It's true I've been ignoring you
Because you sing such hurtful words
Words to say good bye
And words that focus on my worst.

But I hope I'm still on your mind
And I hope now that we've grown
You can sing more happy songs
Cause two broken hearts can make a whole

I won't stop holding on
For just one more serenade
Just to know you think of me
And know amendments can be made

So, just sing a song for me
Something soft and sweet
Let nostalgia take us back
To laughter, love, and peace

Lover's Reunion Waltz

On the one hand,
When you see me,
Will you remember passion and wantonness?

On the other,
When I see you,
Will I remember desire and vulnerability?

On a third hand,
When I hold you,
Will I hold you tightly enough and remember to let go?

On a fourth,
When you touch me,
Will you tremble and forget to breath?

On a fifth hand still,
When you hear my whisper inches from your ear,
Will your body swoon into mine?

On a sixth,
When I hear you sing,
Will my heart beat it's way through my chest?

On a seventh hand,
When I kiss you,
Will my world still fall away so that everything makes sense?

And on a final eighth,
When you feel your lips on mine,
Will butterflies reignite our magic so that you can believe again?

Color Me Stein

I know I'm just a beachcomber
A man of straw
A triviality
A novelty with no nic or knack
And I'm not waiting for a kickback

Still,
A stroke of genius
Under halogen lights
These hands manifest obscurities
Blind to weaker minds

In a space where safety won't disintegrate
You'll be restored
And I'll be yours
Significant and serious
Notable in our delirium

I've taken on the task
Of unraveling the color blue
A shade that seems to frighten you
So I've stripped  it down to wavelengths
I'll be your color theory concubine.

a work in progress

The other day I felt my life with both my hands.
It felt like sinking my palms into a bed of grass
blades slipping through my fingers to sway in the wind.

The earth.
Much like a blade of grass,
we are born of the dust of the earth.

Fragile blades and beings as we are,
we are also resilient.

The reaper could have called me home.
Hell, I could have called to him from my doorstep if Id wanted to.
Still,
He would have gazed upon me and wailed a frustrated laugh.

Cheated.
No one likes to be cheated.
But to be cheated by death.
And to have been cheated so unknowingly.
Well I suppose that was a gift.

I still don't know what life truly is.
What it truly means to live.
Probably because of its relative definition,
But I know that I truly felt my life the other day.

It was suspended by strings and pulled up into the air before me.
I stared dumbstruck and with more curiosity than fear.
And when that reaper's scyth slid out from that rooftop,
I stared him straight in those hollowed out eye holes and dared him to do his worst.

The string was cut.
My life was falling. I reached out my hands to catch it,
And it began instead to fly.

It took a lap around the block before finally nesting into my palms.
Dust, wind, grass, life
All born of the earth.
All bound to the earth and its daily routines.
Who would have known that life could also feel so free.