Today I love with a love that is full
and catered, and bounded by the hands
with which he is willing to receive it.
But I have found that there is a pain
in loving a poet, currently undiscovered
Arguing with a fool
proves there are two
so I wont waste time
in argument with you.
And the branch keeps branching out
while the stone stays stuck in place.
and the rock is taken to Paris,
leaving the stick to take more space.
and that stick lives long enough
to become a stone with little trace.
but the stick still has decadency
where as the rock can only brace.
so here's the moral of it all:
when you live you act in grace.
and no matter the shape or size at all
it's a choice to take up space.
And a metaphor is carried to an uber
wasted on those that bring it home
And now in light I see
there is no wonder as to why
I am alike you in more ways
than you have become like I.
I have waited in your comforts
and believed them my own
however I know now your
environment is not for me.
I have gained the gills of
your swamped dwelling
and learned to keep eyes closed
for safety of my sight there.
Oh but I do now see
that my people on wings
have missed my song
and long of sight.
You have not grown wings
for me, have not left ground.
So in earnest I'll take flight
and listen for that sound that means
you have learned, at least, to sing for me.
"How are you always two steps ahead,
one map out the window?"
"If I keep moving I haven't time enough
to wonder where I'm headed.
And If there's no clear destination
then I'm sure to get there
ahead of schedule."
Don't cry silently.
Wet and burning pain
deserves to be felt,
heard, and extinguished.
And you wait to take the fist bite
because the second
tastes of love
I didn't want to say anything misconstrued
but how had I stopped speaking entirely?
And I want to one day be quite old
Sitting in our Library-Cafe
Midway through our favorite sonnet.
Rereading and skipping lines
In emphasis of my excitement
to see you.