that first night

A not-love poem
  about a night
    A poem of a dream,
      of a memory
        For someone,
          a not-love poem.

I love...

you were there,
though silent and still a secret

you were there,
that night I fell

           I fell
    not with a crash
    not in a puddle of mud
    not in anticipation and desperation
    not with a single tear

  but with a sound of a sweet calm smile
          like a grace of a feather
        like the joy inside a gentle pour
  I fell
       softly in the softest of grass
                 as
               I
                  lay
              my
                 head
                on
                   
                   you

           that night of not-love
I fell in
     love with

   you, the sweetest name
          I held your hand
                  so this is heaven
                  a thrilling sensation
                  euphoric
                  a dream
        as we dragged along
           a rollercoaster
                           of
                          brews
                           of
                     feelings
               and emotions

           naked and dressed

 so new,
  crashes the thin ice of
      our youth
        images and words
    scared and tattooed in our minds

...

Love

  you, ice creams and movies
  dim street lights and bay walks

     no more, no less
     this is all
     I wish for
                     is

us, once carefree and reckless, now held back with hidden fears,
with heartaches, with mistakes, and with a pain...
         intolerable
with burning and crashing chest deep in a pool of
         frustrations,
         hallow promises,
         and permanent prints turned to scars.

We save memories now.

But in this night of not-love
I forget all about the world

                  except for someone I love

you, your kisses
(mmmmmmmmwwwah!)

the scent of your hair

  the secret in your eyes

    the sound of your smile

  the feel of your skin

you brought me here,
  in your secret garden
    and for

you,
    my baby
  my object of affection
    my adoration
  my sweetest embrace
    my love
      
for you

A not-love poem 
of a night 
filled with love

sunsets are overrated

The other day, I spent watching the sun set on my mind in a place where sunsets are most beautiful. In a cold walled place I sat and waited, imagining the scenery of things that should have been.

Yesterday, I watched the sun set inside a moving car. It wasn't the place nor was it the timing. It was just the mere simplicity of it all. It was just me and her and it was most beautiful than ever for I have her wrapped around my arms.