All i know...

All I know is love.


Yesterday began easy, normal, flat.
Yesterday was just another battered baseline,
tramps still trampled on; leaving nothingness on pleading pavements,
fathers still fostered thoughts of adolescent fun,
fairies still didn’t exist.
Winds still wept, flowers still died,
breath still born, often still-born…
And feathers still fell,
But today,
All I know is love.

3 o’clock struck too early or late for anything,
sunlight blocked by the mobile shadows of a mobile mystery
who apologized into life when I exclaimed.
It wasn’t her partly parched pink lips,
or her dying-dust-voice,
or dead converse all stars, it was…
short nails.        “real women have short nails.”

But she is girl and I am boy.
She called herself “Rose”.
  I have daydreams of her being a ‘Natalia’
and smelling just as sweet.
By no means should any color preceded by “baby” have any depth to it,
but in the folds of her shirt,
I heard a thousand Zephyrs, whistling through hollowed skulls and daisies…

“yes; I’ll be Rose” she says,

And I will be the floating fractals on the wings of fauna,
foreplaying between your petals,
feathering through bee stings and bee flutter to fasten
freely formed kisses to your forehead…

“and I will be phaze” I say’ too shy to speak poetry,
it is after all, only 3 O’clock, too early or late for that…

And the ghost of a smile danced across her face,
and all I knew was like.
One-word-sentences have power.
I learnt to cower beneath the avalanche of want when she said “water”.
Since then, we have shared the last nine hours amongst ourselves,
sipping on each other’s stories and dreams,
       We have kissed once.
She has laid footprints on my floor., I have stepped inside them.
Already, I have memorized the music her lungs play;
Here I stand a minute past midnight,
Dowsing my face in wet,
I know neither her nurture, nor her nature,

          All I know... is Love.