I Can Only Love Them when They're Broken

I was looking thru an old notebook and came across one of my favorite poems I've ever written. I hope you enjoy.

My Perfect Woman

She’s my perfect woman

But she wont let me in

I’ve already proved I love her, time and time again

Maybe she’s afraid I’ll only hurt her

Or just maybe I was never right for her

It’ll never really matter if she won’t let me in

I can remember our first night, at first sight

I had to have her

Talked in bed until we fell asleep

I thought that we would live happily ever after

Until I hit that brick wall, she won’t let me in

I’ve written poems and stories, odes of love to my morning glory but she’ll never change our story because she won’t let me in

She erected walls around her island in the middle of the sea

I break them down she builds more

By now we’ve lost track of the score

She might still be closer to the win

Cause she still won’t let me in

20, no we played 140 questions, I thought that we had found our connection, convinced her finally, that we are perfection

But yet and still she won’t let me in

Maybe it would have worked better if I had checked in

Instead of writing lines and studio time, maybe it would have worked better then…

Nah, she still wouldn’t have let me in

Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever figure her out,

We’ve been doing this dance for and year and half

Trust me I’ve done the math

547 days and half of her keeping me away

But I think she’s starting to sway

We never stray always staying the same

Because she won’t let me in

She says she reminds me of me because she sees me in the same way I feel her

Because she won’t let me in?

No it’s because I wouldn’t let her in

For 18 months I wouldn’t let her under my skin

I’ve been nonchalant, noncommittal, and non-relationship

Every time I wanted to start I tied to late

And when she tried I told her to wait

When she refused to say yes

I refused to try my best

She and I are both our sole causes of stress

So I’ve ventured out on my own

Because she won’t let me in

Because I won’t let her in

How do we ever win?

The secret is we know we wont

Yet we love our little game,

We put on our poker faces while trading places our social graces filling spaces

She keeps running, I keep chasing, she never stumbles, its so amazing!

And, I can’t stop because I love her

Every waking second I’m dreaming of her

And just of loved shared under covers

But of all the teeth we’ve pulled to discover

That we don’t know the people we think we did

We only know who we think we are

And in that we realize that in reality it's us who won’t let ourselves in…

Seraph Short

When I watch her walk, it's as if I'm watching an angel glide across the floor. With each step closer I cant help but notice how she gracefully places one foot in front of another in such a way that I have never seen a woman do. My friends all think that I am crazy because they don't happen to see the way that my angel unfurls her wings when she walks into a room. They can’t see it in the way that I see it. It’s as if the mouths of heaven and hell opened and created the perfect being. Every ounce of her is perfect, even in her imperfections I have found perfect asymmetry. Every moment with her is a moment spent not worrying about life. When she is in my room I feel as if all of the world could burn to the ground and I wouldn’t care to notice. The oceans could overflow, I would swim until I found her and in her arms I could allow myself to let go. She is my Alpha and Omega.

When I think about her my mind's eye is blinded by the very thought of her smile. A halo wrapped around her head glowing as if she had enough power to light up the sun and still glow in a way only she could do. When she leaves I listen to the Coltrane album she bought me. No words can be thought of to describe my loneliness, simply a melody and a saxophone. As she leaves my small single, one foot in front of the other – gliding, I feel the pressure of the world once again placed on my shoulder as if, by somehow some way her walking thru my doorway somehow transforms me into Atlas. All I can do is listen and wait. Painting pictures in my mind of stories that have either happened or are yet to occur. And these stories are painted in shades of blues because she is gone. I could play it a million times over but each time it feels as if it is the first time I've realized, he's right.

But, when she returns I am as light as a cloud. All the burdens of life lifted from my shoulders and we are trapped in a time warp, because no matter how long she's around me I never feel as if we spend enough time together. Sands of time fall just a bit too quickly and I find myself struggling to remember that I have to let go, trying, at times (a bit too hard) to retain her for just a second longer so I may gaze into her eyes one last time.

End.

Perfect Sunday Morning

And she is...
Perfect Sunday morning,
eyes glisten as she smiles
-"Good morning, love."
A more amazing sound could never pass thru the lips of a mortal woman
with a gaze of ineffable beauty
I'm forced to scribe thoughts of mornings to come
so that all may know, even after I'm gone
I, have met a goddess

Searching for Cracks in Wonderland

Some Fires in the world just aren't meant to be contained.

Tan fingers lift a beer bottle to rouge lips,

Far from perfection, yet perfect for me.

Three dollar tacos and an Amstel set the scene to share laughs

She's never soft spoken, firm in her assessment of the world outside

Still she searches for cracks in Wonderland

Surely she can sense that something is missing.

A void, left behind by a rabbit vanished through a doorway

Perhaps she can feel how she can cause a universe to implode on itself

leaving nothing but a genie hiding in the bottom of a bottle,

One which I am determined to find.

She is beautiful even if she is unsure of herself,

lips part to set my heart racing

I hang on her every noun and verb as if I were a rock climber

she is Olympus

And in this moment, nothing else exists

God could call for starts to fall from the onyx above and I would be content to sit and finish our conversation.

Another round to fuzz my memory banks

together we sip until fuzz turns to buzz, buzz to darkness

another sip to cure my momentary misfortunes

she searches until she's found what she's looking for, the cracks in perfection

as tears stream down her face I find it hard to think she is anything other than divine

So I offer an ear and shoulder for my makeshift Alice

Forced to deal with the world spinning around her head

But in the morning she awakes, unscathed a clean slate.

And with that she's off to explore Wonderland.