The fulfillment of a promise

tea lights and candles-- oh the nights I've passed this way. Traveled-less poems are mentioned more often. Blow out the words and turn the conversation off-- breathe what you speak, what you really desire to say; what you hear spoken, what's not whispered.

why is passion always loud? an arm’s length how far you must stay from me to blend into this colorless crowd? read this book of bent and catch-less thoughts-- am i still who you want me to be? can't i be the poet and the one that spilled this morning’s coffee?

i want to show you what's written on my hand, but the lack of your presence tells me to you this idea of rawness that is glory-less is non-existent; it's still band. sip it slowly, this life that rest on the coaster made of backdrops and details, it's the only way to taste the honey.

the philosophy of a picture fades when you let your eyes feed your heart. can an echo come from a prophecy? what if beauty reaches further than fantasy? and once you've seen it you can't turn it off. I'll wrap it up in a silk stripped scarf, and give to you this bundle of hues and things we choose and say "no worries its' very soft".

there's a small paper label, that the string runs right through. there's a name on it, written by the one hand that knows perfection. i can't read it squint as i try, but can you?

i remember a time when the cold, cold water slowly embraced my skin. never have i better understood blue. i want to know you in this way so as to change every conception i had before. i want to know you so as to never again ask who?