5th

I think I’ve been struck with the notion that calendars were of no use to me.
Because whether it’s February, April or the very first anniversary
That I know I’d want to have with you,
The urgency I currently nurture into a fervor is my desire
To get to know you better on an on-going basis.
We can steal as many glances as we want,
Until I get a little excited and decide to borrow one instead.
Because it will get returned.
Eyes locked like the lips of those saying goodbye,
Yet have ‘hello’ already chambered in their throat eager to welcome
Them back with the same kiss.
I want you, miss.
As politely and as pushy one can be, mixed into one desire
To balance both on the tip of my tongue
Like the high-wire act of wearing my heart on my sleeve is.
See I’ve caught a glimpse of loving you
And the view was as glorious as first glance,
Yet hard to fully judge like your first impression.
Now pardon the audacity of what I want my future to look like,
But the confidence of me wanting a good woman,
Is far different from the arrogance of me ever thinking I deserve you.
I am a firm believer that if you have a desire, let it be true.
Because sometimes that truth will have you
Tracing my last steps with you on Google Maps,
Trying to relive our most recent moments in an effort to
Prove that this isn’t the thirst that’s triggering things.
It’s nostalgia.
And that memory that gravitates to my mind
Hopes to catch your orbit sometime.
Because if you do remember,
Then the battle of winning you over is half won.
With the other half setting up shop in the spot
That your ripe smile occupies,
Waiting for the grasp of my bravery to pick it
As my favorite fruitage of effort and action.
You gave me me an impression that’s stood to be long-lasting
And is now halfway to indelible……..

Water On Mars (She Is)

There’s a gorgeous in her hello;
Each syllable held by the same wonder
That keeps the universe in motion.
She is water on Mars,
A rover’s whole existence justified
When it discovered her.
Down to Earth,
With men cheering on her presence,
As if she were the very dreams
That kissed their rem state into submission the night before.
And nights like these that have me up,
I’d rather converse with her
To try and solve her sweet mathematics.
Pulsars gossip over which galaxy
Birthed the constellation suspended beneath her eyelids.
The milkiest way to her,
I’d swim upstream to meet it’s downpour.
I promise she’s binary,
Equal parts nebula and man’s vivid imagination.
If the heavens claim what’s above,
I’d seek permission to pluck her from it.
Don’t care if from here, I plummet.
Feels like falling when my honesty meets her trust,
With no other explanation to define the union
Other than it was already mapped out above
Like the Orion’s belt draped around her collarbones.
I breathe easy knowing there’s plenty left in her unknown.
Plenty left to make known.
As her stars shine bright to light a path that takes me home……..

fatherfigure (still writing)

You know as little kids we’d think the world of them.
So much so that our smiles became the equator that encircled their very being,
And the latitude that charted the course for our budding attitudes
Was mapped by the same steady hand
That shook years ago when he first cradled you into your first lullaby.
Nervous.
Not because he didn’t know what to do with you,
But more so the fact that he now knew what to do with himself.
See these are real life sentinels that spoke of conquests of their past and drew the blueprints of our future.
Scholars that taught us lessons learned within the pages of experience’s textbooks
And made us study for the never ending pop quiz life is.
We’d cover our ears at the trumpet procession we thought their entrance into rooms accompanied,
Stared wide eyed at the superhero feats they’d accomplish with strength generated not from superhuman ability,
But from the realization that responsibility now included more than just themselves.
Father is his name and Dad on other occasions.
Pops whenever you called for him
And daddy to the sisters and daughters of the world.
Yet fast forward to today where I’m sitting here,
Letting the ticking wall clock shank the silence of this room,
Reminding me that the lessons I was taught to be a boy
Were now years removed from the missing sequel of navigating the minefield that growing up a man is.
Lord knows I’ve stepped with the result of injury plenty times,
And as I lay with the lessons of learning to watch my step,
I’m reminded that the red I see spill from my failures are of the same shade
That my broken heart spilled when he left.
See reminders of such make me realize that I forgive her for her infidelity
Because my misguided love probably held on too tight,
Knowing that things that mattered in my life tended to dip out the backdoor.
I’m reminded that love wasn’t infidelity, yet the strength to live through it was.
And maybe my future can lie with another one’s so that we can write our own story with bedsheets tracing the cursive that our fluency in each other produces.
And maybe I will live to enter rooms with fanfare louder that what my father’s once was.
And maybe I can superhero my way into her heart to convince her
That my father’s faults are not cookie cutters,
And that I’ll be good enough to show her that the story I’ve written out
To be my own man,
Is the one that will have her eager to turn each page, yet linger over my every sentence all in one breath.
Paragraphs that would introduce her lips to infinity,
Language that would speak a rhythm into her hips,
And the endless combinations of 26 letters to show her why
The transition of my story into ours is the plot twist that makes the most sense.
And maybe I will stand taller at the end of the day,
Knowing I didn’t step on the feelings of those I loved most
To make myself feel higher in the lowest points of my life.
I am not him.
See my goal is to flip those maybes into something more sure than
His shadow disappearing when things got dark.
I am writing still.
Because the chapters I’ve already finished are always ended with the perfect segue into another.
Because even though my present consultant in experiencing things for myself
Is all I can turn to,
Knowing the past presence of what once was
Makes less sense……..

In all honesty,
I’ve probably loved her a million times over
In the the most distant and deepest trenches that
My battlefield of a mind has room for.
Her eyes are napalm and the scorched earth policy
That pulses beneath each batted lash
Has my heart always ready to surrender way before
My tongue can comprehend the declaration.
I would love her through war and love her even more at the end of it,
Because she is the apex of any peace this world thirsts for.

I don’t know of the time’s specific length,
But every moment in between still had room
For a morsel of her memory - from the instance of a first ‘hello’
To the nano-seconds that cluster into the past minute
In which her smile occupied the quiver of my bottom lip.

Her name is a language that’s tattooed into the fluency of my tongue.
And her dynamic is a sacred secret that I can hardly keep to myself,
With glimpses of it spilling out the corners of my mouth.

They notice that I do smile more these days……..

Ellipsis

The most painful grammatical error known to man -
I couldn’t put a period on us.
My poetry’s shoulders are slumped and the sudden tinge
Of missing you
Is the Indian summer of our dynamic.
Misfortune and missteps to the waltz we knew so well
Made us victims of circumstance
And the period that was destined for closure
Grew tired of waiting and laid out as an ellipsis.

I could tell you that what we had was a good run,
But it always comes out as a prayer
Born from late nights pregnant with nostalgia.

The memory of your sigh paints itself a portrait of longing,
Hung just right below my earlobe in the spot
That it was used to making a home in.
Your kisses are sunsets on the horizon of my heartbeats
And the night that falls over us
Is the good evening that our mornings always wanted to grow to be.

The tragedy to a beating heart
Is the beating it takes during the process it was made for.

I sung you the lyrics to one of my favorite Stevie songs
And looked the promise of a better tomorrow in the eyes.
Even though I was never much of a singer,
You smiled your way into convincing me I was doing just fine.

I still have questions that are better left unsaid,
Still have kisses better suited to your forehead
Instead of using them to send off closure goodbye.
If the night continues as still as it does
And swims in the darkest of hues,
I’d hate to think of continuing to float in it’s existence
With sails still waiting for the familiar winds
That your promise once blew……..

Sensibility and Strength

And if my wandering eye happens to land on the brown polka dot soul of your inner iris,
Catch it quick and blink the awkwardness away.
See mama raised me on sensibility and strength.
So the senses that got me to notice you hopefully are fined tuned enough
To help me work on getting you to notice me.
Coffee pots and incense blend well into the mornings
And explain how conversations into late nights
Drove me to crave caffeine the way I dream of your lucidity.
At work
I sit through spreadsheets wondering if all the ‘Go figure’ scenarios in my head
Help me figure you out and get you to figure that our numbers add up
And make some sort of sense in this mad world.
I’m drowsy in a sense, but dozin’ off ain’t an option
When sleepin’ on opportunity is as soft as rock bottom.
Now realy, I ain’t tryna go there.
But if I’m the underdog lookin’ up.
Then at least things, including me, is lookin’ up.
And away I go.
Off to stop another evil doubt bent on capturing my confidence.
Release me from a sense of self-accomplishment.
Because when it comes to being with you,
The WE that you and I form into is the only way I’d see it being successful.
Feelin’ no stress though.
The waft of somethin’ special.
Eager eyes smelling her crisp apprehension
As if the only thing in the air hung above her is in the form of what worries her.
And maybe I’ll pay homage
So respect goes to the strength she used to build up her walls
Because withdrawal was her best way to cope with separation anxiety.
But see with mama’s sensibility and strength,
I’m lookin’ to make each brick disappear.
Until the bare expanse of a clear canvas between us
Separates the meaning we want to define ourselves as……..

encore

I heard poetry pierce brass once.
That’s that Miles Davis wax spinnin’ circles around
The moment I met first met her.
The first 10 seconds were equal parts ‘Flamenco Sketches’
And the rhythmic bass line my chest was plucking beneath these ribs.
If there ever were a blues for her,
It would get nightly encores.
See she is the love child of a jazz record’s silken echo
And my discerning ear.

Put it on again for me lady.
Drop the needle in your groove
So that the heaven in your exhale
Fogs up my stained glass soul.
I drew a heart in the condensation
And spelled out the sound of my eyes’ favorite flavor.
Y, O and U never looked so good together to describe
An otherworldly surrender of splendor.

Music was never this good before her……..

last night (what I really need)

Function was live right?
Saw posted on the couch a good reason to freeze a moment.
Mind of Minolta couldn’t cope with the hopeless
Feeling that any other ounce of beauty was just plain to this gorgeous.

Like love at first sight right?
True.

But then Reality drunk dialed me and said it missed me.
So I came back to it and didn’t get carried away.
Carried a conversation with her and
Dropped it off at the cross streets of
We Should Kick It Again and I’ll Prolly See You At The Next Event.

Came and went but the motivation to
Keep my cool and prolong my status of not being a love fool
All was due to the senses kickin’ in.

But dang she could dance though.
And man she had style yo.
Navajo printed sweater
Had a smile patterned across my face.

Did she really put it down?
Yup.

And it was my jaw that went with it.
Picked it up off the floor
But not without her digits.

Promises of when we’ll kick it.
Her job and school juggled was no problem,
The way she solved it when she
Penciled in some right timing.
And right timing is just what I need
Appetites for some progress
Should be suppressed with some thinking.

It’s a food for thought that I need to swallow
But not washed down with anything
Cuz I’m far from thirsty.

Truth, it’s what I really need.
Lights low and let’s move slow
Let’s dance first and see where it’ll really lead…….

Stay

I found a reason for this feeling the other day.
It was here, at the doorway to my heart.
Where your lack of presence behind it takes up all the room inside
And accounts for how heavy it gets when you’re not here.

Stay.

It was the word that stuck to the phone line and sounded as sweet
As any good thing my ears could ever taste.
Because honey, the actual distance that word traveled
Collected all the flavor our “I miss yous” left in their wake.
See they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.
But is there a saying for when yearning grows too big for it’s own good?
When it’s outgrown the confines of hearts
And is left searching for a feeling at the pit of your stomach?
Scraping the bottom until the dull ache I feel there
Translates to the same language we speak into receivers every night.
And every night we’re left agreeing that our watery eyes
Could never quench this dry existence when it’s each other’s touch
Our skin thirsts for.
Baby I’d love you through a postcard and write in pens dripping with anticipation.
See it’s ink that’s permanent.
So I’ll tattoo in my mind’s calendar
The very next moment when we’re exchanging breaths
As if they were barter for the costs we gladly pay
For making this distance work for us.

Stay.

Because we already tie anchors around our goodbyes
Hoping they drag across airspace and catch on to 5 more minutes.
But see we’ve spoiled each other.
So 5 becomes 10 and 10 becomes 15 and 15 becomes
The times when I told you why I don’t use syrup on my pancakes
And how I like to hear the way you say “chocolate”
And how my father’s mistakes make me love a lot harder
And why distance is a single edged sword that cuts our hearts in one way.
Up.
Yet, the scar tissue made us grow a lot stronger.
See the other day I played out loud a voice message you left,
Inhaled,
And let it’s meaning breathe a symphony into my lungs.
With each syllable exhaled reminding me why
Hearing you is music to my ears.

Stay.

Because even though we’ve used up all our anchors.
Our heavy hearts filled with each others’ absence
Are enough to hold us down like a paperweight
On the pages of our love story.

I dare something trivial like distance to blow it away……..

Museums

I used to think that I could write people out of my lives.
Like the ink I’d spill for them would bleed them out of these veins.
Like their existence as an exhibit on the blank expanse of white
Would leave them as lifeless as the memory I was chasing.
How dumb could I be to forget that these exhibitions on display
Only commemorate their occurrence and turn memories into monuments?

I am an accidental curator.
The well-meaning individual who let’s time and a preoccupied mind run it’s course,
Only to become an unknowing builder of museums.
Ones that house monoliths to past lovers and hang heartbreaks in gilded frames.
Displaying written memoirs on marble pedestals.
Etching their initials into Corinthian pillars that stand to support
This deadly habit called
Remembering.

But through this I’ve realized that whatever’s tied itself as a knot
Around each wrinkle in my brain,
Serves as the binding to strengthen my resolve to learn.

And so never will I forget the God in her eyes that created the care I wanted to apply everything to.
Because in a world of not giving a damn,
The ‘I want to’ in my resolve is the cursive that will lace itself over apathy
To create the liner notes to my success.
I’ll sign it in the blood of these memories,
Transferring life into written existence.
As if the words that raised themselves off of paper
Stood up defiantly against me.

Reminding me that I will not forget
So quit wasting away trying.
Quit paving the way to denying.
Because what I survived then was flipped into living for now……..

Trace

I smoked our potential and let it coat my throat.
Breathing is as elementary as us.
If the clouds I’m swimming in have as strong a current
As the rivers that swept down your cheeks,
Then the difference I plan to make
Is to change the reason for their course.

Read open flames with no maybes.
Drape yourself in the amazing “what if” that matches your iris best.
The bias in me admits it’d be every shade.

And to draw you close I’d simply have you sip on the silver slivers
That slipped out these lungs.
Breathe my affection and exhale a reciprocity that traces my gratitude,
Outlining our figures like the chalk that marked our doubts as deceased.
And with two shots taken, not fired
I only request your presence as my chaser.

Light up this night sky with my mind’s eye.
It’s just reflecting your flavor that I play staring contests with all day.
With the smoke outlining our potential,
Tracing all the positives that we are meant for……..

simple

I couldn’t possibly believe in magic anymore.
Nor sorcery
Nor spells or sparks that fly from wands.
Nor wishes that grant me false hopes,
Nor clasped hands that asked for past pleasantries.
All of that blasted into the same stratosphere
That houses the question marks hovering above me.
Wondering if the enchantment that was granted to my eyes
Was from stars crumbling into dust and sprinkling over your mold.

You were a tale meant to be told through the lips of wise souls.
With words marrying sense
Once they passed their lips as if they were the bride kissed.

I could think of plenty highs that shoot over moons,
But I prefer mine to miss
And land on a down to earth kinda reason to nurture a new worth.
If you’re left to wonder what that would be,
Well then you are her.
And the she that exists in the pre-existence of my concept of love
Is the you that taught me and caught me up to it.

You pressed pause on reality
And sung me your own reasons to dance to our own.
Courage shown through the unknown we Geronimo leaped into.
As extended visuals of what we could get into
Simply wrinkle your nose into that smile that I could see myself waking up next to.

Words could be endless in explanation.
But despite it all, the concept of us is really just that simple……..

Equation

I’d rather bask under the shadow of your worst mood,
Taunt passerby with the long equation to your smile
And dare them to try and figure out how to
Solve the problem of being right next to you.

None would pass.
And so I would hang pride around the corners of my eyes,
Like they were the very prelude to the tears of joy
Being born on the day I’d promise to
Break every hourglass in the world,
And turn each grain of sand spilled
Into the skipped heartbeats
That hopscotch over decades,
Once we figure out that we’re meant for each other.

So if I say that I stand tested,
I say that with as much new found conviction
As a nation’s flag of discovery,
Waving proud against the very winds that doubted it.
Love, I shouted it.
I felt centered, yet prayed to be surrounded by it.
The mathematics to do so, I learned in time.

And I’m still sittin’ here laughin’ at every hopeless soul
That tries to solve the equation of your smile……..