Formulaic Expressions

Your words have a chemistry.

The formula of your syllables

form an aphrodisiac

whose strength is dependent

on how much sleep I had last night

and the dreams that I planned

that never came to be,

but that's life.

So when you speak,

I reach for much less than the sunset

though much more than the morning;

it is easy to spell glory during the dying of the light;

though nothing is as foreign as the doorkey

when you are terrified of what might lie in wait

upon the other side.

Fortunately, your sentence structure

has a transparent honesty that carries me,

promising that it is safe, for once,

to place my trust in faith

as your words become like frayed memories,

comforting in their familiarity. 

Your words have a chemistry,

the cadence of your voice

connects the dots of a molecular chain

that resonates with the strings

of a universal instrument;

an antiphonal elegy;

when you sing, 

I know there is nothing as eternal as innocence. 

To dance unabashed 

and wild and naked and free;

following the soft melody of your speech

as it creeps like molasses 

through the cracks in my facade,

fills in my gaps and intimately bonds

with my substance, until unified

we set off seeking sustenance

under the bluest of skies;

fearlessly in pursuit of that elusive high;

the basis for what love is;

as sacred as when the sun lifts its shining body

over our faces and warms our smiles

with a simple radiance;

the very reason for the breath we are tasting',

we are breathing with a reckless abandon;

in pursuit of that fleeting breathless surrender,

so when the secrets reveal their perfect splendor,

we can with satisfaction, just let go;

measure it as worth it,

with no regret close my eyelids as the sunsets.

This is all contained within

the implications of your context;

your words have a chemistry,

a rhythm as of a heart beating in a strong chest;

a metronome dividing seconds into moments,

making moments immeasurable.

You speak in the language of epiphany,

your silence is made from revelation;

your words have a chemistry.

Timelessly, I could sit and listen to the gentle whispers

of your waters kissing the questing lips of my island;

You are the stream of consciousness

I am your witness;

you love to twist and dance

around the shape of things

like an autumn mist

as I try to decipher the conditions

of this waking dream

superimposed over a back drop

sketched in the likeness of ancient monoliths.

Your words have a chemistry,

a fusion of elements;

birthed from the union of endless potential

and brilliant imagery;

in communion with a luminous divinity,

a self-propelled engine;

your logic is flawless

like perpetual motion;

your conclusions are aggressive with a sexual motive

to penetrate my defenses,

demonstrating the pleasure of embracing

a complexity of emotion;

your premises accumulate inertia

until I cannot help but infer 

the necessity of slowly strolling through life.

Savor the moments, heed the hearts murmur;

converse with all of everything

and you will discover what you search for;

not the answer but the question;

you only had to say it once,

within every fear there is a lesson.

Your words have a chemistry

of which I am blessed to be listening;

though strangely, 

I hear it best on your breath

as you are sleeping,

head nestled

in the crook

of my arm.