Pablo Neruda

“ I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. Pablo Neruda

ruin our lives because we can

It is okay to miss things that have wounded you.
Crave fresh scars where flesh was once smooth.
Desire all that is forbidden everywhere
  in your gluttonous heart.


I imagine a place full of things that people search for.
memories caught between glances, that linger through lost trails of thought
The two of us , we would burn it all down if we had the chance.
Choose fire instead of ice. Choose touch instead of distance.


It is true that the world will crumple beneath our heels
and that promises tend to dissolve with the dawn
In the summer time it's okay to sometimes miss the rain.

"La tristesse durera toujours"


The sadness will last forever 

Lady Madonna

Love in Earthquake Weather

I’ve written enough about ruined lovers
I’ve talked too much of things slipping through fingers
Painted desire on this visceral canvas again and again just to
See it all melt down into something I no longer recognize
Something I can no longer relate to
Rage and clinging and longing and fighting for things I have given up on over and over
I have woken up in pools of shallow flesh and returned to your emotional deserts


Wait until the sun goes down this last time
When a cool breeze exhausts this flame but keeps it smoldering
I can hear all of the cars whisk by. Feel the heat of their engines
I can hear kids play solitary after school games as they wait for their dinner


Things are calm for now
But under it all there is desperation
Building up under layers of dusk after dusk
Dusks after days so hot you can smell the asphalt
Hot days after a winter that lasted too long
Makes people pack their cars with maps and good walking shoes
Blinding days turn into iridescent nights
Nights when you kick all of the blankets off the bed and flip your pillow again and again
When the bedroom turns blue with implied sunrise
I see you glowing with sleep and your dreams reaching out for me


This is earthquake weather
These are the parts that ill take for granted, cling to feverishly
These are the images that my mind recreates
But this time sprinkled with the pain of time that passes too quickly
So quickly you begin to doubt it ever took place


 In an instant it has all collapsed
The devastation of love does not equate to the actual act
It is not worth it when in the end no one can be saved.

Many Colors of Desire

twisted sheets and the
slowly wakening city. a cigarette
idle on the ashtray. i think about
how the crook of your arm would feel
on the skin of my neck, if my lips
could meet that spot just beneath
the shell of your ear.

i have understood desire
and its many colors, and i know
that this kind is rare

.

bukowski 

libraries:

I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.

I need a plane ride i need a sunburn

I'm tired of this rain. I can't remember what sunshine feels like on my skin anymore