an untitled poem about love

this is the only good thing i've ever written.

i hate today.

******************************

Hands like polished wood,
Placed perfectly in my palms like
The puzzle pieces
I've been looking for all morning.
Now the picture is complete.

Oh, I see.

It's a dusty box,
Sitting in silence
At the bottom of your closet,
Amongst the
Nic-nacs and
Bric-a-brac
Oh-so carefully misplaced by
Your oak and maple fingertips.
Open the lid and take what you find.
A patchwork heart and
A clockwork mind.
They're yours,
If you want them.
After all the milkshakes and keychains and
Milky-ways and sad song refrains,
I give you my heart,
I give you my head,
And I give you
My apologies.

I'm sorry I don't answer your call on
The first ring,
Because the first thing I think is
Panic.
Fear.
I'm scared of
How your voice lingers in my ears,
How your eyes wade through your tears,
And how your lips stop my lungs and leave me
Breathless.

Gasping for air beneath
The blankets in your bedroom on
A rainy afternoon,
When my hold feels like home,
Feels like Christmas by the hearth with
Hot milk and the moon.

The stars in your eyes,
Much like the stars in the sky,
They guide me with their brightness,
With their likeness
To fireworks on the Fourth.
And if you emptied a Roman Candle,
And mixed the powder with my blood,
Then set a flame up to my veins,
That's what it's like when our lips touch.

What will I do?
What will I do?
Oh my dear God,
What will I do?

I will spin on my heels,
Rip off my shirt,
Shoot fire from my fingertips
And scream to Heaven above,
"This is love."

I can taste it on my tongue,
That bitter and sweet and salty treat
That tastes like
Strawberry juice and chocolate bits.
It tastes like
Your sweat and your spit.
It tastes like
Arsenic.

It's killing me,
And I like it.
This ancient pain that sits
Right here in my wrists,
In my molars and incisors,
And in the
Ventricles and valves of
The one muscle that can
Stop time.

What will I do?

I will rip this heart in two,
And give the beating half
To you.