I can keep drawing
these two dimensional stick figures
in the sand
like some primitive man.
It’s 2 in the morning
and I’m mixed
with goodness that’s making
the dull ache of yesterday
seem all worth it.
The words are enough for me
I’m thankful
I can still draw these awful stick figures
in the sand
just before I get into this flight
my pretty kite
it’s always been in my hands.
Sweet and exploring
two things that mix seamlessly,
and I want to fold them both
down into your tired arms
with rich buttery lotion
that has sitting in the direct sunlight.
I can’t help myself,
thinking of you,
I’ve opened up enough inside to know
I’m happiest
when things are balanced.
Having a girl
just to have her
spreading love’s addiction
evenly out all over her skin
underneath a rain-soaked night
that most intimate of moments
where we’re both taking risks and chances.
There was never a guarantee
that we’d ever get anything in return.
I’m smarter now
because of the weight of yesterday
and my faulty,
fucked up memories.
The real reason
never needs to be acknowledged or repeated
I just want to wake up today
laying there in our favorite place
where we plan the day,
just figuring out
how we back get here
safely untouched
safely ready to love.
Today’s timetable
is a hurtful truth
where we dream
nothing ever happened
just as long as I’m high
with my girl.
I can live my life
in this dream
without any consequences
coming back to me.
I have open arm
ready to be embraced
by a true pretty girl
that insists on softly singing
in her own private moments
sitting there
deep in the mirror
it’s important I guess
to touch up and apply
the shadows of beauty.
She knows her natural looks
are stunning
all on her own.
Inching up behind her
trying to distract her brush strokes
she touches my hand
and smiles
with this stare
a deep squinting stare.
I wish I could take a picture
of this moment.
We stay locked on each other’s stare
reading the thoughts in our minds
she squeezes and says mouths the words,
truly thankful
I bend and kiss the one true mark
that makes her melt.
Love’s an impressionable child
with simple needs
basic true expressions
that reach out and intertwine
like the child-like stick figures
drawn out in the sand
