Bump

Bump.
Tiny little lump.
Blooming inside.
Or maybe just in the mind.

Bump.
Tiny little lump.
I’m just a pup myself.
Don’t come yet to bed.

Bump.
Tiny little lump.
There is no need to rush.
No need to happen, hush.
Bump.

Tiny little lump.
Give me a present, please don’t be here.
No, not anytime near.

Bump.
Tiny little lump.
Give me a little time.
So I can be best for you, when you are mine.

To Bests and Worsts

My best choices
Had led me to you,
As my worst
Had prepared me for you.

My best
Is here to understand your worst,
As your best
To be patient with mine.

My best
Is when I am with you,
And my worst
Is when I’m wishing I am.

My best
Is you,
My best is you.

I Should’ve Known Better

I should have known.
Should have known better.
With a heart that tender.
Oh, I should have known better.

It was a threshold you cannot cross.
I can see you were at a loss,
With a heart that tender.
Oh, I should have known better.

Perhaps it draws the line.
Of how different we are, but yet, somehow the same.
With this heart this tender,
Oh I should have known better.

Nothing

Nothing.
There were words.
And melodies.
And the words, broken into meters
Sing in unison
With the rests, and breaths–
Loosely measured lines,
All these and more,
All ended up with nothing.

Not the words I speak.
Not the truth words bear.
Not the soul they reveal
No, none of these
Ever meant anything, apparently, just–

Just a flimsy clump of words
Held together by the purest intention,
Thrown perhaps haphazardly,
In the hopes they’d hit you hard enough to make a dent,
To make a mark,
To make a stain,
To make you know,
To make you remember, but–

But they weren’t enough,
Not enough,
Never were enough,
To make a dent,
A mark, a stain,
To make you know, or much more remember, I–

I tried to write,
To write of something new,
Of something good,
Of something nice and beautiful,
But I cannot.
The words won’t flow,
They have ceased,
Formed in my mind,
But wouldn’t come out of my mouth,
Or hands, I–

I am used to not hearing some things,
Not an apology I need,
Not an apology I deserve,
Not the praises you think are true,
Not an unsolicited advice,
But most of all,
I am not used to not hearing anything,
After I poured my heart out,
After I took it out and hurled it into the wind,
After I let it go,
Not sure if it hit anything substantial, no–
Not a sound,
Not a thud,
Not a breath.
Nothing.

– •• — •

Time.
In our borrowed time.
In our little piece of heaven.
Between your eyes  and mine.
Your hands and mine.

Time.
In our borrowed time.
In our little secret moments.
Between you and me.
You and me.

Time.
In our own time.
In our little secret promises–
Multitudes of them,
An abundance of them.

Until I Do

When I hate the world,
Everything,
Everyone,
Myself,
But not you.

When I’m so done with the world
With everything
With everyone
With myself,
But you.

When I just want to get away from the world,
From everything,
From everyone,
From myself,
I’d run to you.

And the waves are drowning me,
The wind is taking me,
And you’d reach out your hand,
Waiting, patiently,
Urging me to grasp,
To hold on,
Until I do,
Until I do.

Eyes and Ears

And I’d lie here,
In your nightly comfort
As you play your heart out,
Unaware,
Pure.

And you would never know
How beautiful it is
To witness something such as you–
Unrestrained,
Your hands and shoulders,
As your eyes glisten.

You would never know
How I can love with this–
Even from afar, I know,
Just how beautiful you are.

You would never know,
For I will never say,
Unless you know where to look,
Unless you know what I can’t say.