oh, the way they lie
through glass lenses
for dollar signs
it isn’t true love
unless you apologize
show me something real
where the love hurts like i do
i don’t want fake tears
i want passion that burns
lovers to the ground
and dwindles down
and they emerge like phoenixes
from the dust.
not a single star in the sky
but a thousand in your eyes
reflecting off these city lights
you taught me to undress the moon
i’m pretty sure i could love you
i’m pretty sure i already do
do lips,
like fingers,
have prints?is there any evidence
you were here
at all?
Kindred spirit child,
I’ve found home
within your eyes.
Chase stars with me,
catch butterflies
between our palms and
whisper wishes on their wings
before we release them
to the skies.Kindred spirit child,
I’ve found safety
in your heart:
a delicate collage
of glass and shards
of mirror where I
find pieces of myself; I know
together we have something
beautiful.
you smell different
when you’re awake: slightly less
of dewy dreams, slightly more
of espresso machines
behind the counter where
our hands touch when you give me
my change
and call me ‘Sir.’
I sit at my table from
noon till two while you bus tables,
thinking of all the poems
I could write about just your eyes:
so goddamn
wide, with the whole world
still in ‘em.it’s Tuesday– your shift ends at four,
and i think about how you will
take the bus to your apartment
downtown; how you’ll put your
stocking feet
up on the coffee table while you
drink wine and watch
Gilmore Girls reruns on the CW.
How you’ll fall asleep, empty
glass in hand, dreaming of
versions of a future life in
a world i do not exist in.i will go home and drink
malt liquor with my dinner
while listening to NPR,
and fall
asleep to the
smell of dew and you
saying my name as our
hands brush together when you
reach for mine.the smell of burnt
espresso and
the sound of your voice
(it always seems
so much softer in my dreams)
in the morning
will wake me up
to the continents in
your eyes
and i will only be able to smile
as you
hand me my change.
Silenticel 