Speak to me in waves of brilliance
making metaphors out of stars;
your eyes exchanging glances with mine
like similes that once hung the moon.
Romance is as simple as syllables
that find a home as sentimental verbs;
castles making a home in the sand
until the tide comes in.
Walk barefoot with me
splashing kisses of summer
into midnight interludes
making footprints in unlikely places.
Before adversity digs in its heals
on my winding pathway to fate,
wishing for blissful sleep,
I come to you on bended knees
begging for comfort; for clarity of mind
and your light never fails to shine
lending warmth to hollow places,
solace to cloudy shades of uncertainty;
tranquility to once shattered spirit.
Now, my rivers run quiet; ripples of hope
spilling into what were once only dreams
of something as simple and complicated
When syllables come knocking
at any hour, I surrender arms,
of butterfly’s flutter.
Darkness is not always black,
but, blue; this gloomy essence
that can melt a soul with presence.
Should I let go of all this blues,
the sky would bloom
in a burst of gladness.
They weren’t your nightmares
to chase away;
fears to calm,
and you never signed up to rescue me
from my own imagination.
Sometimes you have to save someone
More than once;
2:07 AM therapy sessions-
diagnosis: my past.
No one told me
that abuse come in many forms
and that by any definition,
control is not love.
Pain trickles slowly
like hydration from an i.v.
as life flows back in
through transfusions of love.
These little things like sighs;
like brush of fingertips across waiting skin
send soft breaths to petaled places
where thirst for love feels more innocent
than any blossoming flower we have held.
Lips do more than whisper and when
sweet nothings leave prints
and giggles find a place in awakening thoughts.
We meet in meter keeping perfect time
in intimate increments.
Keep my bare feet on a blooming path
and my hands longing for yours
and stay close enough to touch the tremble
when rains come and feel every tousled strand
as we sway
into tangled versions of us.
When the moon dances
in a private recital, and syllables
seem to cascade over the tongue
like sweet memories
finding a place to land,
we get sentimental;
words, like kisses capturing hearts
trading inhibition for flutter;
longing, for fate’s blushing glow
To give in
is a gift draped in solace,
drowned in laughter
that only sacred souls can hear,
and when less fortunate circumstance
floods these walls with days
void of color,
let this bridge we have built
bring us closer to the path we seek;
every footstep softer
than the one before.
When winds kiss the softness still in my face
blowing sentiments through tresses into syllables,
and oh, the light that shines when dawn breaks!
This love still flows, like rivers,
mends all of the scratches and breaks;
those little imperfections that make us, us.
I can see that mountain from here-
here in these flat lands where bluebonnets cry
and constellations revel in knowing
that Texas skies are unmatched,
as we sit under them
playing in poetry and forget-me-nots.