in the morning

i'm gonna miss everything about you--

the way your eyes glow

when you talk about shakespeare,

how your lips curl up at the edges

when i say something sweet

and i'm struck by the insatiable desire

to kiss them,

when you fold up next to me

until everything i want to hold in my arms

is nestled between my jaw

and my shoulder,

the way your head rests on my chest,

ear pressed against my heartbeat--

i wonder, do you hear my heart

saying your name

in its steady rhythm,

hoping above all

that repetition

can inscribe you into my soul

so i can carry you everywhere i go,

my love.

morning is on its way

but for now, if it's okay,

i will hold you here forever

as the night crumbles around us,

i will take your hand

and look into your eyes,

i will whisper to you 

in a voice that comes from just behind your pupils,

i will tell you

that i have never known

anything more true

i have never seen such light

as now i see in you.

would it be weird if i just spent

the next couple hours

staring at you in this dress?

are you okay with that?

cuz you can tell me if it IS weird, though

i hope you're okay with it,

and i wanna know if you aren't 

cuz permission and consent are super

important

and i don't ever want to do anything

to make you uncomfortable

but

if you are okay with it,

i'm gonna sit here

and you're gonna stand there

and i'm gonna look at you 

forever,

until the moon gets tired

of being upstaged and goes to bed,

and the sun edges over the horizon and

days and nights,

and days and nights and days and nights 

will come and go,

and i will sit here,

and you will stand there

and i will look at you

in that dress.

I feel so gross lately

because every time 

I look at clouds

all I see are hearts,

my friends must be so sick

of hearing about you

when the only words 

that come out of my mouth

are "Dude," your name,

and the phrase "so fucking cool."

The other day I checked my phone

and it said the time was 11:11

and so of course I had to make a wish

and you were the first thing I thought of,

like what the fuck?

It's so disgusting.

But

I'm smiling more lately

the sky isn't necessarily more blue

than it was before,

but fuck me if it doesn't look like it is,

and my friends tell me something in me

has change, but just something little,

they tell me I'm still me,

it's just that I'm me, but happy.

I guess what I'm saying is

thank you for

this gift

you have given me

thank you

for the gift of you.

The goosebumps on her skin

are my favorite book

and I'm a blind man

in dire need

of a good read.

Her flesh dips and peaks 

like a purple mountain range

snow-tipped caps

wrapped up in silence,

stillness, and majesty.

The violin curves of her arms,

her legs, her waist

her closed eyes flutter

her mouth is a silent gasp

as I etch a love poem

across  her neck.

With gentle touch

and hunger on my lips

I chart the rise and 

fall of her flesh

trace outlines

of isles and foreign lands

in the dots of her skin

and am awash in her breathing--

have you seen that girl?

She holds the knowledge

scholars thirst for,

generations of academics

and philosophers come and go

never knowing

the secrets of the universe

lie between her legs.

You fill my lungs with a mix

of vanilla, bergamot kisses,

and I find myself falling.

Here we weave, your body unto mine,

your breath fills me

while these trees stand guard,

silhouettes against the stars,

sentinels of a fledgling love.