Love me out loud
as plainly as you know how.
love me in between
ordinary moments, simple things.
Be the rush of blood to my head
you know my lips, my muted speak.
familiarity inside our bed,
come here. Stay in our sheets.
Read my silence, like you always do.
I know I don’t always say much when I speak to you.
But your effervescence saturates
the pores within my mind
reflecting in your beryl pools
I am struck moon-blind.
Love me still, where quiets rests
my favorite place to fall, your chest.
When the world around me blurs away,
I love you more, I always say.
Love me wisely, like the way you speak your truths
I’ll learn your depths, your shallows too.
Companion thoughts, my gifts for you…
though they don’t compare, they siphon through.
I will love you mysteriously, i will climb inside
as ivy grows, my devotional wild.
November raptures the hues, the sparks
the same chilly air, vows of the heart.
Philosophers, lovers, poets and more
have long emphasized the weight of words.
But your I love yous
are spoken in verbs.
The dimming of sun, transformations profound,
the winter that follows, muting each sound.
So I reach for your love, just as leaves seek the ground,
Relentless they float, until they cover what’s found.
So much of November reminds me of you,
how our strength comes in seasons,
the warmth peeking through.
So in between the words I write,
i thread my promise, I lay this down,
to the ends of myself and back around.
I will love you, forever out loud.
The Wayfaring Friend 