Who am I to be hurt in the equation 
of just met and possible futures?

The math done after an encounter 
is always somewhat enchanted 
with at least a small dose of fantasy.

:

Some small part of the corner of one pocket 
holds that lightest glimmer of
unjaded romantic inclinations 

and all they want to do 
is be thrown into the sky.

Catch ‘em on a breeze 
so they can glisten and flutter, 
potentiality (inherently) woven 
into the power of the sun.

I want to warm all of my 
internal dreams for affection 
out in the open 
and not be bleeding heart.

This will not be sacrificial.

This will not be ritualistic, 
premeditated, 
calculated.

Instead, I want to 
plant a seed 
in the ground
 
for every good 
moment we share.

Let’s grow a garden that’s 
frivolous in its intensities, 

downright comical in 
its execution of expression.

We’ll have ginormously 
gorgeous geraniums 

and a catastrophe of 
cat calling calla lilies.

We’ll have apple trees 
that keep doctors away 

because they’re 
doctors themselves 

and orchards of oranges that 
smell so sweet you just know 

with a whiff 
that they are bursting 
brilliantly with sweet 

juices.

We’ll have green beans
luxuriously curling up 
trellises 

to tell each other good gossip 
about how to grow strong 

and squash so smooth 
they won’t even need butter.

These are just some of the 
ridiculously wonderful things 

I’d like to imagine with you.

But maybe we don’t need 
to be so satisfying to hunger.

Maybe it’s enough 
when smiles are light 

as in glowing 
as in moon shining 
as in the intimacy of a candle.

Maybe there is no need for metaphors 
because the human experience 
all by itself is enough.

What happens when the anticipation 
of a finger becomes infinitely 

electrifying, as if all that you are 
is being focused to this singular point?

The attraction of 
yes, this.

What happens 
when the blink of an eye 
with lashes like butterfly wings 

stirs the air inside you 
into a tornado of feeling colorful?

The attraction 
of this, yes.

What happens 
when lips and the totality 
of mouths turn into strawberries 

and pomegranates because you have 
a sweet tooth for some natural sugars?

Yes, 
this.

This, 
yes, 

is something like wildness 
and something like wonderful.

:

Attraction is Water.

I would enjoy drinking yours 
and I hope that someday 
you’ll enjoy mine.

So, wherever you’re coming from, 
however you’re traveling, 
and whenever you get here, 

just let me know.

Feel free to throw some 
of your glitter in the air
 
'cause it’ll catch my third eye 
as the sun rises.

Or place a new concept 
in this riotously fertile soil 
of imagination.

But: I’ll let you in 
on a little secret.

Just say, hello. 
How are you?

It’s these little things 
that are so tender.

Subtle.
Simple.
Strong.

I won’t see it coming 
and 
I will thank you.

For seeing me, thank you, 
as someone worth conversation.

For knowing that beyond the small talk, 
and metaphors, beyond everything that 
might be a distraction, is someone just 

wanting 
to 

smile.

siiaah --(Exact Date N/A, 2015?)
 

:

Date

Pronouns: Family + She + They

Mxs. Isa Lee Love Jones René, BAPS