To My Future Ex-Lover

   you never understood

     the Language of Necessity.

Like how I need the thoughts

that make your lips Tremble

   Quiver

        Shiver.

How I need the air between

        Your sweet separation

     In order for me to breathe

-           your Voice

You are

   the Sweetest Dream

   On the warmest day

      Of the Perfect week.

My, Sweet Dream

  I forfeited classes

     Of Sleep Talk

    And REM cycle.

I’d rather Sleep Walk

     The violet clouds

         Of our dreamland

              Hand in Hand.

Dear Love,

    I pray my eye-lids

       to hug each other so Tight

       so as to invite

My favorite memory

-           your Eyes

    etched inside my lids

         your Eyes within my Eyes

            and both our Eyes

  holding eachother’s gaze

for days

         on Higher

-           your Fire

two Bodies

  trying to Rub the Names

    of Ex-Lovers

        off Skin

             of Sin.

My Future Ex-Lover,

          I apologize for strangling Doubt

            from your mind.

          chocking thoughts of Infidelity

                 Till I rendered you Hopeful.

I fashioned my words

       Into a quilt

          so you might fall asleep

          within my Trust

      But I must

         Admit,

                 My blankets tend to hang with Nooses

                 Hug like Straight Jacket.

I’m sorry for talking

      with Wrists attached to Fists

       Hiding History

         Behind

          Guilty Gloves.

the Scars within

    are bruised Hymms of

    Hes and Hims

    Pounded into Her past.

 Spread apart

    She slaps the

     Almost-Tears

     of Darker-Years

        from relentless Faces.

Brought together

     Damaged Palms

     Carry Psalms of

       Brighter futures

                  …Ex-Lover.

when the Magic dims

 glitter fades

    Dancers paralyzed

        by the Applause in your gaze.

and all of that

   Handicapped Passion

    Tastes like Fire

         Burns much Brighter.

caught between

Hopeful Fingers

Fingers that Wish

   to stroke Skin

   And trace the lyrics

      of a Lover’s Song.

Fingers that long to

    strum the Chords

      of heart beats

   to follow Rhythms beneath the Soul

      and search for a place

         within its Symphony.

 Fingers

        that have grown tired of

           Closing doors

       who wish to become

            Constant enough

            Worthy enough

             Confident enough

                   to fit inside a Ring

                               or Something.

when my Heart

   gets Bumped

     skips Beats

      and Repeats,

hold me Close

Dear Love,

   close enough to Burn

    to scar

break the Spine of my Kiss

   my Lips

        and Paralyze the moment

         as a memory forever held

                within your Hands.