For Sam

spontaneous midmorning naps,
i look on your closed lids,
angels golden fluttery blush sunshine
delicate, dear, your soft kiss





you're made of butterflies.
i understand
died and went to heaven-
meant to be together
like tea and good books
like bodies that fill

each other's

e m p t y s p a c e s

our blue periods together
form an ocean
that with soothe,
and sweep you away

hours later, i'll sit
not trying to articulate, but
o
u

t


p



o




u





r






i






n







g
all of this thing that
no one expects us to know
listening to Conor Oberst
the shake and the sway and
my own unbelieving passion,
it drives me,
drives me,
drives me to blissful unproductivity
lying on my bed-now our bed,
killing what anyone may say

in liminal time, i'm still there
memories are time travel
science fiction
and i'm never leaving
because of your face and your voice,
who you are flaws and all
and everything,
i want all of you

i want to become part of you,
become cradled inside your body
where i will listen
to the metronome of your pulse
and our souls will be intertwined like
the tendrils of the plants i grow
they grab onto eachother
and would rather snap off

than let go