did you know, like I did, the first time we really met face to face. Boy you were cute. I couldn't even think. goofy and real. humbly sweet; a man with a child's heart. When people say they've found their other half... it makes so much sense now.

did you know like I did, when i saw your face for real the first time w actually met. I get scared knowing that you really want me the way you do. already comfortable, this relationship had gone from good to great. A constant state of aroused awareness. you are my other half. And around you I feel whole. It's a story or fairytale that's been told, heard and passed down for generations. Love. 

It's a long drive and the wait, unbearable. I love you has already been spoken and now we fight to see if it last. But that first impression, to live or die for love. The best impression. Serious looks and fumbling hands. Something has kept us from meeting before now... fate. I never believed it either; never though I could be 'The One' for another. By the end of lunch I want nothing more than to be wrapped in your arms,  movie in the background, asleep on your chest. You said that night you could feel my heartbeat. I say right now that I will always feel yours.

Parts of me are confused. I shouldn't be saying these things yet. Maybe I am vulnerable. But... I love him. there is no one else but him.  No one, but there is a bane, it's me. My addictions are guarded for now. Friends say to tell him, I say if it works then the changes I will make for him are welcomed. I don't want him to hurt.
I'm going to keep this cup we got on our first date together, maybe it won't work out but god I hope it does.

When to Wait (This is for you)

When we first met it was simple and I trusted you without fail. Modernized pen pals, personal but safely guarded. Buckets of emotion tipped for you. With some common ground we grew. Years past and still, I barely know you. Through personal thick and thin, you were there when I needed, with the right questions answering  my thoughts before I'd say a word. Just talking to you made everything better. And you were right you know, when you said, "Our time apart before we really knew each other brought us closer."

It's been a long time since I felt this way; a beautiful cliche and simple is suddenly perfect. That adrenaline rush you get from telling another how you feel. Like I've stolen the stars, saving them for a night with you. The comfort you get in the passenger seat while the one you love is driving, windows down, slightly chilly; a summer night but cool enough to embrace head on. Or a hike through the forest until all else is gone. Just you and me. Taking deep breaths, the scent of an adventure with you smells as sweet as morning dew on soft petals.

With others it was quick and painful. nothing prevailed and I was left wandering, twice. I've taken  long walks, where wooden planks are dangerous, but to hold your hand and take a different path would be perfect because now...

 I have more to give. Much to share. Time to spend... With you.

Atop a Bridge

The wind shivered, gently questioning my face. Softly, warm; like a breath of air it caressed every crevice I never knew. Intelligently enticing my ignorance to the tip of each hair. Neutralizing my intended lean. Begging my attention, It spoke. Asked of a relationship, one to die for. Dwelling, sharing prismatic horizons; a spectral journey away from the setting and into the rising sun. Two days in a day; twice the amount of candy colored stars. Twice the amount of sky; dappled by stormy quandaries of life and otherwise, paired with a carbonating generation  and a twenty-twelve atmosphere. All the justification needed for one last adventure.

"See all of  it, everything," generous words understood in my ears as spoken by a gentle beast. How could one refuse?

Gaping, fathomless depths filled with the stench of nature, harboring in memories of chromatic sunsets, blanketed by a million tiny diamonds blinking a lullaby; milking you to sleep. Traveling lightly across oceans spanning miles; whittled down to rivers, delicately maneuvering through mountains and canyons. Kicking up sandstorms stories high. Playing under the Northern Lights. Visiting the entire great space... and then back. Humbled by memories that snatched me from a reality atop that windy bridge. Dangerously fighting a falling dream, when our time is over I feel desolate. If there were an option I'd follow the Wind, into It's sunset. Uniting with the night; shrouded in stars.

But He's not really gone. We are a whole. I've been handed control and responsibility.
Atop that bridge there is another. Leaning against my rush.
It's my turn to show you the world now.

Masquerade

            Recently, there are doors that have shut, doors that.., secretly, I never really fully expected would one day actually deny admittance. Awareness begets hostility. Fevered questions arise and land arrogantly across unwelcome mats woven with a strand of confusion. I've become unrecognizable as current characteristics being to play heavy on emotional levees.
            Even my reflection is a different person with another thought, a suggestion really. I no longer recognize myself, each feeling is a different face. Every passionate emotion; a gamble. It goes something like this:

Reality isn't fake just not of concern. Presently a child-like idea. Consequently consequences . Existence imitates ingenuity and the world becomes a haven for the mad. Imagination buds with blood on it's petals. Death, in the portrayal of a child's rhyme.

            A second; just a split, twinkling in an eye. There are chances and decisions that beckon passionately. Redemption swarms. This time, wrist are up and ready. Each mask falls. Laying bare are the complexities of someone familiar.
            Recognizable now, doors open suitably. Doors which deny the admittance of those I carry. Trivial frustration. Practice to perfection an elated life. Defined by the universe as unmasked.

Masterpiece.

I painted yesterday, and the day before. Understand that sometimes it just doesn't feel right and then nothing comes out. No picture in the final product to express what you were feeling. Because when you go to show what you feel, you paint and paint until the colors run together; until nothing about what you have felt can be determined. Nothing except the color black. A pensive soul. But then... how could you paint anything other? A color a day. Absent a color a day. Oh, master of grey, the shiniest darkness. A seemingly empty canvas. You live like a man whose been ruled by 'the faith' his entire life. Somewhat like me; that timeless 'likeness.' But I at least stand proudly, freely I live or at least I try. Sacrifice is no longer up for negotiation. And... when questioned about 'what to do' or 'what do you do?' Tell them you live, refracting until right. The perfect color; your reflection. A masterpiece.