I look at you and I see your skin
is the colour of snow
and I look at me
beside you
and I see my skin
is the colour of sand
and I see you
beside me
and me beside you
snow and sand
sand and snow
both temperatures on the extreme ends of a Fahrenheit
But the air I vent is hot
and the air you vent is cold
I rise
and
you descend
and we come together
somewhere
midair
otherworldly
my atoms fill the spaces between yours
and your atoms fill the spaces between mine
our particles
interweave
and
intertwine
we solidify and
together
softly
we come to rest

I've Never Loved You in Paris

I've developed a sense of embarrassment of the words I write about love because I feel that I have somehow outgrown it; which is stupid and not true. I'm publishing this because I understand that it's not right to be ashamed of how much you are able to feel and how strongly you need express it; it's fine if you feel strongly...
Contrary to what I have been told before.  

So here goes..



I've never loved you in Paris. 

On a map there's pinned
all the places
I've loved you 
in
but never in Paris.

in old towns where 
cobbled streets had you strolling 
by my side.
and a man 
who played 
you are my sunshine
and 
you were my sunshine 
in a green line tunnel. 

in big cities with wide streets
in backstreets
you would kiss me 
in big big cities. 
behind buildings 
and in between
you kissed me in
Köln.

along shores of Mediterranean blue
and you
and me 
together
we lay on the green grass of many parks.
Jardin d'Anglais, Geneve
in May.


but not Paris.

a coin hit
the pit
of the Trevi
and 
that's where I
last had you. 

I loved you once
by the Thames
and another by 
the Rhine
while staring at mountaintops 
in Annecy
and
in Spain 
by the sea.
in front of me is
the Notre Dame
I cross the Seine
listening to a song
I've listened to before
while loving you still
I walk by the Seine 
and wonder
what it would have been
like
to love you
in Paris.