5 AM - 2/11/14

I could go into great detail,
But I'd rather keep it simple.
You are perfectly ridiculous.
An amalgamation of awkward and amazing.
Much like 5 AM,
I don't know where you came from.
Seems like a place that knew of my needs.
I've always been the type to give flowers,
But you also inspire me to tend to my weeds.
You even remind me to plant more seeds.
Special is the person that both instills and intrigues.
You leave the impression of a blessing,
Making a mark by leaving a mess
In the feelings I've tried to keep cleanest.
Your intuition is the keenest,
And when it comes to putting a smile on my face,
You're an accidental genius.
Much like 5 AM,
I didn't expect you at all; you showed up.
But as sure as the sun shall soon rise,
You quickly became a light in my sky.
And while the stars are still out,
You are the twinkle in my eyes.
This time of morning reminds me of you...
The unexpected that caresses the creative and collected.
I could go into great detail,
But I'd rather keep it simple.
You are perfectly ridiculous.
An amalgamation of awkward and amazing.
I don't know where you came from.
I didn't expect you at all; you showed up.
Much like 5 AM.

-A. Lewis

Untitled - 1/31/14

Hearts cuddled together like bodies, sharing energy. Minds reaching synergy as our bodies meet endlessly. Intricacies of our intimacy... Desires light fires that require ample attention. Mentions of them cause sweat to gather on the skin, physical reactions to the ethereal attraction. These moments, despite the incalescent heat, are frozen in time; endless periods of oblivious minds that see nothing beyond what they feel. Should we ever question if this is real...we won't. The legitimacy of our intimacy is up to us. What we create in these seconds, these minutes, these hours...it's all ours. Unique. Forever unfinished, even when we feel it's complete, for there's always another chance for such a romance...and never shall any of them compete. Every memory fights for itself, but never against another. It is borne out of drawing together time, its father, and space, its mother. Opportunity is the third dimension, with motive being the fourth. When all are present, it's quite natural to feel the direction and stay the course. Not a thing is forced, although wills are imposed. We both want to ravish one another, so we strive for our goals. Paying diligent attention to what pleases instantly; giving determined effort to please intensely. The ultimacy of our intimacy. Hearts cuddled together like bodies, sharing energy. Minds reaching synergy as our bodies meet endlessly.

-A. Lewis

Young Love

If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It's never that simple though. Feelings are complex, and expression can be complicated. "Simple" would be to let it all flow, but many of us are constipated. Dammed by how damned we think we are. Unaware of getting close to someone, too busy assuming that love is just so far. We get so caught up in trying to free ourselves, mired in irony thick enough to thin out all logic. Begging the universe for help, yet making predictions and stating conditions like prophets. Know-it-alls in a state of ignorance. Blissfully blue. If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It's never that simple though. It requires a lot of work. How can one give energy and effort without a concrete sense of self-worth? Wouldn't it be easy to give without receiving reciprocity? Wouldn't it be easy to be in a parasitic relationship, relishing the fact that it's a form of relation, although all time is spent feeding a monstrosity? It never sounds that way to the person living it. We're all trying to find someone to love, but we never consider if a person's preferred way of receiving love is compatible to how we enjoy giving it. Forcing circles into squares. A hammer for a screw. If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It's never that simple though. It could be, but that just wouldn't be enough. Apparently, it's not real if it isn't tough. The quality of love is now defined by ups and downs, the ability to endure. What does that really ensure? If we fight constantly, do we ever really make up? Honestly? That's emotional abuse. Hurting each other just because we know how to heal one another...what does that prove? Why would I cause pain to the person I'm supposed to care enough about to soothe? Searching for validation...the kind that should come from within. Love is growth. That's the only thing that makes it "real." Get rid of the stipulations, the judgments, and the expectations too. If I had one request, it would simply be you. If I had to describe my desire in one word, it would simply be "true." It always starts out that simply. I just want to keep it that way and keep you with me. We should cultivate what we have and cherish it intensely. Despite all that crosses my mind, you're all I really think of. The difficulties of young love.

-A. Lewis

The Involuntary Incident - 12/4/13

It's never really an option.
No matter how much you try to proceed with caution,
You're bound to slip.
Feel the motion as your emotions take a trip.
We can't choose who we care for.
When we try,
There are feelings we can't deny,
And we end up caring more.
We end up sharing more.
Surface questions give way to deeper oceans,
Icebergs of information causing commotions,
Titanic truths revealed, sinking secrets in the open.
Connections happen without any indication.
This always seems inconvenient,
But it's only because we want to connect as vindication...
A paycheck for putting in work.
Recompense for voluntarily risking being hurt.
Life doesn't function that way, however...
Pure intentions on misguided missions tend to lead to nothing but dirt.
We're much better off trusting the mysterious forces at hand.
No one knows how falling in love happens,
But everyone knows it cannot be planned.
It is as organic as nature itself,
A beautiful process that occurs on its own time,
Encompassing, harmonic,
A force powerful enough to bolster the spirit and mind.
An abundant resource that we all desire to find...
Plentiful in its own way, but scarce when unnecessarily defined.
Love truly is both patient and kind,
Forever embracing us and refusing to leave anyone behind.
Whether or not your idea of it complements mine,
Whether or not it seems to have a reason or rhyme,
If it's meant for us, our hearts will find a way to bind.
You see...
It's never really an option.
No matter how much you try to proceed with caution,
You're bound to slip.
Feel the motion as your emotions take a trip.
We can't choose who we care for.
When we try,
Cupid shoots with an endless clip,
Firing away until defenses take a dip.
Love has a way of creeping in...
A thief in the night,
Stealing away your emotional stability.
I guess that's where the fall comes from,
Realizing that your feelings are changing, rearranging.
Someone has slipped into your daily thoughts.
Someone has become important.
Someone has feelings that matter to you,
Feelings that replay in your mind like a broken recording.
It all happens without permission.
Despite avoiding this like it's perdition,
The combination of affection and attention
Puts you in a position where your feelings rival Heaven,
And just the mention of that person brings ascension.
No matter our efforts to remain impartial,
Our hearts will forever ignore attempts at detention.
Remember...
It's never really an option.
No matter how much you try to proceed with caution,
You're bound to slip.
Feel the motion as your emotions take a trip.
We can't choose who we care for.
When we try,
We run away from something within,
When we could embrace it and fly.

-A. Lewis

Playing With Words, Vol. 5

The love we could make...
The precious time I would take.
Your body is a work of art that I desperately want to plagiarize.
To trace every inch,
Then recreate it by infusing my passion...
Painting you with emotions and sensations,
Watching you enjoy your body's reactions.
I admire how you're made.
It inspires me to love you deeply,
To the point that what you perceive as flaws seem meaningless,
As though I delved beyond them.
Have an epiphany while I'm in the middle of you,
And maybe you'll see what I see:
You are a being of beauty.
As a man of fine taste,
Appreciating you is my duty.
I'd love for you to lay back and let me act out my adoration...
An intricate creation requires intimate stimulation.
Just think about the love we could make...
And the precious time I would take.

-A. Lewis

Playing With Words, Vol. 4

Thoughts of what we could be.
Assumptions of what we would be.
The potential of what we should be.
Caught up in the feelings you've brought up.
Falling for you has reacquainted me with the depths of my heart,
A place I hadn't stumbled upon in some time.
You'd think that such a warm area would be a refuge in such a cold world,
But it was quite the opposite;
Visiting meant you weren't tough enough, despite logic.
The idea of "us" was stuck in my head, and I could not dislodge it.
Different memories of you created the snapshot in my head, a composite.
Love, at one point, seemed grand and exotic...
But you lassoed the moon and brought it to me.
It's just too bad that you gave me the rope instead of tying me down with it.
My imagination ran as far as the moon would take me away,
Drifting until the perspective started shifting.
Rose lenses lost their tinges...
The facade lost its hinges.
All that I envisioned came crashing down, just like I did.
Reality prevailed...
Leaving me with the thoughts, assumptions, and potential I had originally lauded.
Oh, the irony of being in your feelings when that special feeling has departed.
It's a long climb out of here...and I don't even know where to start it.

-A.Lewis

Playing With Words, Pt. 3

I really don't know...
What does one write about at this time of morning?
The moon still reigns,
But the rise of the sun steadily approaches.
Dew has strewn itself across the grass,
A blanket that will shimmer in a few hours.
All is calm; all is still.
What does that mean for how I feel?
Are any emotions elicited at this time more honest, more real?
As the sun and moon juxtapose their respective arrival and departure,
My feelings fail to do the same.
What's here is what's here.
It's all so clear,
Yet shrouded in the darkness of the night.
Writing is my brightest gift, so I write.
Illumination for the consternation,
Conflagrations of concentrations of excellence.
Proficient descriptions of my emotions and attachments
Shine a light in the deep chasm of my affection,
Bringing me that much closer to clarity.
Yet, as unsure as I am about whether this is night or morning,
I'm not sure if this is love forming.
...I really don't know.

-A. Lewis