Did you feel me reach in the darkness
with the slightest touch of my finger
to trace your lips?

I wanted to stroke words
that whispered from your mouth.
To smooth over beautiful

I can always smell a poem
I breathe deep and
its scent is caught on my skin
I can taste it upon waking
my throat aches
and there’s honey
at the corners of my mouth.

As I stretch

Just one man
full of wonder, man.
With beauty in the
eye of the beholder.

Hot
crimson blood
boiling, rising, bubbling,
in your veins, man.

You begin to write,
and all I want to do

If you kiss a poet

similes will slide smooth as silk

over your lips

and metaphors will glide like honey

down your throat,

toward the sweet of your heart.

You can’t go searching for it

like a lost set of keys

or the other black sock

it’s not just sitting on the tip of your tongue

or just a random thought

He would be tall and still tan from summer

and glance at me sitting by the lake

and in the loneliness of an autumn morning

lay down his blanket and take

a look, out of a book

I remember when you told me you loved me
You looked deep into my eyes
You said it was alright if i didn’t love you back
I forgot to say out loud how beautiful you are.

I feel your hands in the grocer giving me my change
at the corner store
and I want to pass my lips over them.

I see your face in a man leaning over a book
in the coffee shop

Do I ever make you smile
when the words go back and forth
do you linger
do you wonder
do you ever hope for more?

Do you lounge around my page
like the sound of what you’ve heard

I listen to my heart

I hear love cling

it’s such a constant thing.

I hear ruby red

and blush with the thought

your lips brought.

I’m aware of warmth

Stay, don’t turn away

let me see

those reds and golds

though it reminds me

I’m getting old.

Wait, please hesitate

don’t let go

hang on a little longer

You will smell fall and think of me
and remember, she wanted fire.
The late afternoon sky will pinken
like the flush of my cheeks,
and the color of your heart as it was then, will be burning.

Yeah, he was so sweet on it

that place,

that some forgot

where he’d slowly twirl his fingers

through my hair

and try to pin

messy strands upon my crown, there

but

If you have a heart

you can write a poem

you just need to listen.

Hear the rush of the blood

bubbling through your veins

after all,

your heart is really your brain.

He loves me

I’m in his heart

he loves me

though he pretends not

he loves me

I see his dreams

he loves me

it just seems!