find what you love and let it kill you

my dear,
find what you love and let it kill you.
let it drain you of your all. let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
for all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
~ falsely yours

– charles bukowski

light street

i saw someone who looked like you

my heart, 
it skipped a beat. 

[oh to hope!]

it wasn’t you
walking 
down 
the street. 

my lips and yours

go on and fold my hair through your fingertips. brush my cheek with your warm hand. find me, see me, swallow me in wordlessness.

dear lover, it’s the gentlest touch that pulls my heart from easy resting. you’ll find a poem in the rhythm of the smallest beating moments. in the silence hear the melody. in the chaos bring me home.

my lover, dear lover, won’t you sing me to sleep. with the sweet smell of spring, and us, tangled in limbs.

in his words

he spoke about her as though his words were born from tiny particles of his heart.

“life is just better with her, she just makes everything better,” he said, his eyes so bright with fondness.

with love.

“she’s wonderful.”

his words made me smile, they made me cry. his terrific love, so proud.

four

my heart races to the sound of voices in the background, mumbling into one, a word standing out here and there.

but my heart races. that’s the point.

it’s in the air, it’s on my skin – it’s tears stinging at the backs of my eyes. excitement, extreme excitement…

i’ve missed you, terribly.

sunrises, sunsets, europe.

fancy dreams

i’ll dream you up in a big fat cloud of wishes come true…

i’ll bathe in your deliciousness.

forever, my darling. my sweet sugar pie. let’s dance under moonlight, kiss in the rain, pinky promise and cross our hearts. intertwine our fingers, hand holding and strolling side-by-side. let’s picnic in fields of sweet-smelling wild flowers and watch the setting sun throw pinks across the pastel sky as it slowly disappears behind the rolling hills.

i’ll fall gently to sleep in the nook of your shoulder, your arm around me, your fingers sweeping across my skin. oh boy, will my dreams be sweet.

my love.
my lover.
my loving heart.