our hearts were full and spilled
onto each other and then this page,
radiance in tandem with love and fear.

if i am the sun, you are mi bella luna pequeña--
you reflect the brightest parts of me,
and our darkness is the same.

you are the automaton at the center
of my youth and health and life.

in an r&b slow jam that's stuck under my skin, there's an ocean filled with love, lust,
and peaceful eyes between green and blue and me.

I'm making a choice: you.

when i say i love you,
it's a promise that my heart is yours
in as many or as few pieces as you need.

when i say i love you,
i mean that words don't capture
the nuance of feeling peace in your smile,
charmed by your eyes, and lusting to contain
your entire wonder in a hug.

when i say i love you,
i want the answer to be, "no ****,"
because i want the world to recognize
your value.

when i say i love you,
i want you and mean it.

i love you.

i'm a very hot & cold, all-or-nothing person, and i hate feeling stifled and like i'm not being heard, so i type my insecurities into this ****** little digital void and sometimes call it poetry

in moonlight whispers love fills my heart
and glass with wine, and magnifies
my soul to tenderness.

the biting, scraping, lustful pining
for distant and abhorrent truth
is solace in place of reality.

a reality where we address the trauma
of unkind childhoods, bloodied knees,
and chipped teeth.

misunderstandings that follow the gap
in a shortness of breath before an apology.
that remind you that your thoughts
can only love if you do.

and years later you will have some drunken
outpour that darkens the moonlight
and comfort, but makes way
to some otherworldly dawn beyond
the you that reads this now.

complex in its twisting, winding way,
where and when sound escapes,
intentionally beautiful in an ugly sense.

she solidified the mist around my heart,
froze its vapors, shattered it, freed me. her quiet
green eyes speak loudly the volumes
that her voice feared.

there is deep longing in that greenness, and when i see it, i return it tenfold-- in praise,
lust, our conjoined humors.

dreaming of what could be:
a night at a lake-- mostly still, stirred only by chirps, ribbits, and croaks in dangerous proximity to our heat.
there is a picnic there, under a tree-- evergreen, stable, firm.
food, wine, ****, peace.

her beauty and kindness are now light
to me, for me, through me.