a literal metaphor

My dearest love, please close your eyes
and while I hold you tightly in my arms
accept that I cannot control myself.
You are the only thing that can keep
me sane and quiet on these rainy nights.
Allow me to show you my gratitude.

It's rare for you to express gratitude--
the thanks you give me come more from your eyes
than from your words. When, in the night,
you come and enfold me in your arms,
that is exactly what I cannot use to keep
these words of love tucked deep within myself.

Yet, sometimes, I regret your lovely self
offered to me in twisted gratitude
and sympathy. If what I most desire to keep
is offered only when I'm most in pain, my eyes
would be forfeit, I would give what would most harm
me to lose, to keep you with me every night.

But--oh-- the endlessness and dark of nights
spent with the ghosts that haunt my former self
terrify me... with you, I am well-armed
to defend my soul. The pure gratitude
shining through my unfrightened eyes
seems to touch you. "I wish I could keep

that look on your face forever." Then just keep
us here like this, beloved, through the night
and I swear I'll stay this joyful. Although eyes
might close in weariness, my inner self
will not sleep, but cry out in gratitude.
There is no safer place than in your arms.

The morning sun beguiles with its charm,
the dark of night is the moon's lonely keep--
but you provide my light-- with gratitude
and love, I set my course by you at night
and chart my travels by your radiant self
by day, when you are still dear to my eyes.

I could not keep my gratitude inside--
my eyes told you, my arms spoke the words
that in the night, our selves echoed silently.

summer day
eating ripe cherries
and thinking about your full lower lip

You disarm me.
For you, I'll bare my throat.
For you, I'll submit.
For you, I'll show my vulnerabilities
and beg you to take advantage of them
shivering under your fingertips when you do.
For you and no one else
I will lay down in your arms
and close my eyes, and sleep.

There's nothing pure about me.
I'm a gleeful criminal,
a shameless deviant,
proud of my abnormality.
I disrespect laws
and codes of conduct
in search of excitement
and personal truth.
Not only do I do these things,
but I like to talk others
into my favorite transgressions.
"Trust me. I do this all the time."
"You don't have to... but think about it."
"I promise you'll enjoy this."
Sometimes it doesn't take much,
a slight nudge, a few convincing words:
a new partner in crime.
Other people require more work,
a cost-benefit analysis,
testimonials of prior escapades,
precautions against repercussions.
Still, it's more fun being bad
when I'm sharing it with someone,
being a bad influence on behavior,
and anyways,
my favorite transgressions
are the ones I can't do alone.

My body isn't traitorous enough
to be uncomfortable when yours
is resting on it.
I can (and have) been
your pillow for hours on end
without a single nerve cell
falling asleep.
How could I waste
a moment of contact
when I count every embrace
as dear as I do?
No, I stay aware,
pacing my breath to yours,
trying to memorize this feeling
of sweet contentment.

hands entwined
let me lead you down empty corridors
peek into rooms filled with antiquities
show you the truth behind rumors
pick the locks and discover treasures
delighted by what we find
let's throw these doors open
shine our flashlights into corners
walk boldly through these hidden places
go places maybe we shouldn't go
satisfy our curiosity if we can
if you think we can
I don't think we can
but let's try anyways
together

At last, I've been deconstructed,
every part scrutinized with a jeweler's loupe,
then put back together by careful hands
painstakingly, fixing the worn-down places,
replacing the broken-toothed cogs
and the cloudy piece of quartz that kept me running.
I've been upgraded-- now my heart's a diamond
refracting rainbows in the spotlight of love.
Take me in your hands and hold me up to the sun
to see the sparkle of affection light me up.
I've been reset-- keeping perfect time
to the measured beat of your racing heart.
Wear me in your pocket, take me out at intervals
and check my unerring tally of the minutes I've been yours.

I can't be honest with you
looking into your eyes,
which isn't to say that I lie
because I never lie to you--
except for when you ask
"what are you laughing about?"
but the words I can't speak to you--
that's the source of my poetry.

One day, my beloved muse,
one day soon I will hand you my poems
and you will understand
why I laugh,
you will know the truth
of why I smile when I see you.

One day when your golden hair's gone grey
you will take my chapbook from the shelf
and remember the woman
who laughed out loud
and honestly loved
every terrible pun you told,
every wry twist of your lips,
every time I couldn't tell you something

and poured out poetry instead.

close your eyes, dear one
let me quiet your mind
lay your fears to rest
talk you through the dark hours
convince you you're all right

whisper legends in your ear
catch your favorite constellation
and hang it from your ceiling

to watch over you while you sleep

I cling to sobriety like a last resort
rather than a first line of defense.

Intoxication has failed me once again,
wine tying my tongue into knots instead of loosening it,
weed dragging me down rather than getting me high.

I'm swearing off the lot of it.
I'm pouring liquor down the drain by the bottle,
I'm throwing baggies onto bonfires and walking away.

Only one thing works any more.
I'm strung out after one hit, trembling for want of it,
shaky like a junkie just remembering that trip.

Just put your arms around me and let me feel your warmth.

Kiss my lips once more and send my head spinning through the stars.