_the rest of the world will break your heart
but I am not them.
I’m a reformed Stay Puft,
a soft place to rest your head
as the voices echo
grief for dreams
they dreamed for you.
in my dreams, you’re the one dreaming.
my love for you is not blind
so much as it suffers tunnel vision.
this is a cancelling of the variables
this is a reduction of the equation
so that it becomes easier to solve.
x is x is
x is our future.
why is it that new love has to be young and naive?
my love is wise beyond its years;
my love makes battlefields of thermostats;
my love has barometers for bones;
my love whispers profundities to no one,
blankets for shelter, between marathons
of Murder She Wrote and Matlock.
my love is ready to retire,
quit working so hard and just be,
laugh atop the Eiffel Tower
and show wallet sized photos
of other love it’s sprung
to passerbys who barely speak English;
but damn if they don’t speak love.
my Carthusian heart
silent shouts quiet
from crests on your bed.
I’ve got 3-D glasses so good
your visions tickle the back of my brain until my eyes bleed.
I want to love you so hard
the mortician has to light the cigarette for my corpse
and I fall asleep excited to wake
next to you in the afterlife.
I want to kiss you so long vampires burn before the dawn
hoping to bear witness to passion
they’d only read about in Twilight.
I’ll show you yours if you show me mine,
the missing parts of our hearts
that tell us, Yes, Virginia,
there is a Santa Claus,
that show up about the time
the Neo of our love matrices does.
You are my One.
burn your love into my soul
once beauty fades, the titles roll.
crowds scoff at hour forevers,
but you as well as I know how forever flies.
You are not them.
You are not them.
You never were and could never be.
Your heart is safe, I could never break
that which I hope to keep.