Poetry..#19..

I want you to understand to realize and comprehend that if ever you get lost

and the starlight that used to guide you is saturated in darkness,

I will be waiting patiently on the horizon.

I will man the lighthouse and polish the mirrors to offer you the most humble

guarantee that my light will shine bright enough, far enough

and for long enough that through the fog and black you sail upon,

your eyes will find my light and your ship can sail

home.

I hope you believe and trust and place your faith inside the fact that if

your feet find themselves standing upon unfamiliar earth, and the branches

are curling around you,

I will be waiting defiantly inside the deepest corners of the darkest path,

palm to the sky waiting to hold yours and lead you out.

I would build a bakery just to bake the bread just to break into pieces

so you always had crumbs to follow so when you look down at your lost feet,

you’ll find  the crumbs I left behind, follow them to me, follow them

home.

I need you to tell me that you, perfect in your stumbling and silent searching,

are waiting with hands outstretched for the maps I will never stop drawing. 

I crave the realization that my scattered scribblings and frantic X’s

marking the forgotten spots are being read by eyes still wet from the

sprinting down the winding paths I’ve inked upon those pages. 

I need those eyes to be your eyes and I need to know that you’ll follow

my instructions to the letter and to the exact number of paces when facing

due north so that the only X you’ll end up on is the one

I crossed my heart and hoped to die upon.

I’ll always man the lighthouse and I’ll never stop breaking the baked bread

tearing it to crumbs, and I will draw these maps until ink has run out

and I must finish it with the red in these veins, but they never will work

and you never will find home unless you stare through the fog for the light

and reach for your feet to pick up the crumbs

and lick your fingers to unfold the dry map

that’s been sitting in your hands all of this time.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#18..

This is a rambling meditation

an indoctrination of the inspiration

and the hurricane of thought

that storms through my brain.

This is a directionless path

through the snowbanks

and sand dunes of my mind,

the archipelago of my dreams

and the haphazard scattering

of observations that fill all

the empty spaces.

How do we manufacture such intimacy

from such simplicity?

How do our hands know to fit together?

Do our minds speak

in secret to ensure they lean

the proper direction when we

are blind for a kiss?

Does your laughter fit on music lines

and who composes the melody

of our conversation?

Will the balance ever balance out

or will I be the heavier need

in this see-saw, my feet in the dirt

while yours hover in the sky?

Do you dream of me, do you miss me

when I’m gone?  Will the weight

of what we’ve gone through sink your heart

or be the resistance you need

to soar?

These are the thoughts

that swirl through me like drops of blood

in sinks of white.

The silent wonder when the snow falls

and sunlight rides each flake to the earth

and the curiosity as to if you

saw it too.

Why the brush of your foot

against mine at night stops my heart

and why I reach for you through the darkness

of my slumber?

Have you ever loved like this before

or are we rewriting the rules as we go?

How do you know the ways to

calm me and silence the shake

when I lose myself?

How do you bring me home

again?

Is home a place or is home a person

or is home the creation

of one soul out of two?

Are you proud of me like I am

proud of you?

Did you feel the strain of waiting

to meet in this life

and is it our first lap through?

How do you know when it’s tears I need

and when laughter alone will do?

Why do your lips have the power

to move me and make mountains

on my skin?

Why do your ears hold your hair

but still need my fingers

to replace it when it falls?

How do your eyes see me and what,

what am I missing?

The me you see is so much

so much more than the me

I thought I could be.

How did you save me and more than how

why?

Do I save you like you save me

and am I enough when you deserve

so much more?

How can I be the more you’ve earned

because I am capable

of anything.

Do I say thank you

for the love you’ve given,

do I owe you my life?

You can have all I am all I have

without ever asking.

This is a rambling meditation

a silent affirmation

to One second of thought

that transpires in the space between our

lips parting and our eyes

opening again.

That one tiny moment of darkness

before your light finds its way

back in.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#17..

You should know this

that I love you

that I have always

loved you

and nothing,

no force in this

universe,

can stop me

from loving you

still

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#16..

Can't you see

from where you

sit

that I have scars

to kiss?

Can't you heat

from where you

rest

that I just may be

crazy?

Can't you feel

from where you

sleep

that it's always

You

that I

miss?

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#15..

I want kisses without question marks

and if at some point one lingers

I want the passion we share

to make those marks stand at attention,

straighten their backs

and transform themselves back

into the exclamation marks

that used to and always should

lock themselves to our lips.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#14..

For now I will rock him gently back to some form of calm as I raise

my left hand slightly above my face and let it hold my chest higher,

while I drop my right hand where your waist should be and I feel

my feet fumble through the familiar steps of a familiar dance.

I will dance with the ghost of you and swear that when I turn

just in the right direction or close my eyes long enough I can smell

your hair and feel the form you should be filling spill into my empty

fingers. I will hear the fabric rustle and the feet shuffle and

taste your lips on my lips and feel your heartbeat bouncing through

the cavity where I know my heart once lived before it grew tired of

this place and paid it’s last month rent and left nothing but empty

boxes and broken promises and piles of my life like dust on the floor

ready to be swept up and thrown away with all it didn’t see fit to

pack for the trip back to you.  When the music that isn’t playing stops

and the awkward shuffling alone through the room feels sillier than

it should and I am left standing alone and dizzy will the walls whisper

to me, finally, all of the words that were left unsaid between us?

Will they mock me or will they grow soft and cradle me into them

and allow me the spared dignity of muffling my sobs with their

insulation, just for a moment, just for awhile.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#13..

How can I see all I am missing when it is things I’ve never seen?

How do I know what your arms would look like painted with sunrise and

the lines from the blinds on the windows? How your back will

become littered with goosebumps when by a combination of accident and

precise purpose, my fingers brush your spine as I zip and unzip

your dress?  What do I hold, where do I put this ache and how do

I stop being so frightened by the sound of my own voice echoing

back through the emptiness when it screams the words

I Love You back to me only softer, only further away.  How do

I not feel broken when the final echo stops and the sound of

Love and You fades into nothing once more?

-Fin-

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#12..

I count the syllables

of your laughter

and wait

for the line breaks

of your long deep breaths.

I may be a writer

but you are a poem

and you spill out

like ink

onto the paper of our days.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#11..

What should I say

when I want to kiss

the side of your neck

and leave it at that?

When I want to feel the heat

of my own breath bounce back

and warm my lips after I

strategically place them

on my favourite pieces

of your skin.

I want to leave goosebumps

everywhere I have not yet

kissed and spend the night

trying to read them

like Braille.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#10..

I want to hear your breath,

the slow and steady rhythm

and rise and fall

and fall and rise

as it rocks me to sleep

and I want to see your eyes

open on at a time

to the brightness

of new mornings.

I want to know what your skin

feels like after three days

of traveling and no bother

of a shower because what

we see is more and worth

more than how we feel.

I want to hold your hand

and feel the squeeze when you

are absolutely terrified.

I want to see your smile

when you are worn out from

making love to me and I want

to carry your limp arms

into the shower to let

the warmth soothe us

back to life.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#9..

We are made of passion. We are made of the half-lid glance out of the eyes glazed over. We are the long sigh when the weight of one rests on the chest of the other after the exhaustion of intimacy collapses arms. We are the foreheads slowly touching and the shaking arms cradling and the quiet reach of a strong hand to bring lips closer and kisses deeper and whispers sweeter. We are the emotion that has never fit inside either of us and never will.

We are the crumpled sheets and pillows fallen to the floor.

The hair disheveled and the out-paced breath and the quivering skin that follows.

We are the passion.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#8..

We

are the only

people I have ever

known

that can

make love

from across

a

crowded room.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#7..

When my arms

wrap around you

can you feel

my fingers

clinging

to the fabric

of your clothes?

"You hug me

like I might blow

away,"

you whispered,

but all the fabric

wrapped in all my

fingers was not to

keep you here,

but to go with you

when you did.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#6..

Amazing how manageable life can feel with the only one blanket and the right two arms.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#5..

Come here

and take off your clothes

and with them

every single worry

you have ever carried.

My fingertips on your back

will be the very last thing

you will feel

before sleeping

and the sound of my smile

will be the alarm clock

to your morning ears.

Come here

and take off your clothes

and with them

the weight of every yesterday

that snuck atop your shoulders

and declared them home.

My whispers will be the soundtrack

to your secret dreams

and my hand

the anchor to the life

you will open tour eyes to.

Come here

and take off your clothes.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#4..

I'm there, still, waiting, still. There beneath the water's surface, there above the mountain's peak. I'm there, still, hoping, still. There in the colors that bleed through the leaves, there in the blue that comes before black does. I'm there, still, come back to me.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#3..

Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#2..

I will miss you always, even in the moments when you are right beside me.

Time apart has planted longing inside me and I do not think it is a weed

that will ever stop growing.

It will always live there, but my god

it grows the most spectacular flowers.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson

Poetry..#1..

What if all we have ever wanted isn't hiding in some secret and faraway dream but inside of us now as we breathe one another and find home in the way our arms always seem to fit perfectly around the spaces between us?

What if we are the answer and love was the question?

What if all this time it was us you were supposed to find?

I am filled with wonderings questions and doubt but one thing I am certain: it will always be you that gives flight to the butterfiles inside me, calm to the sea I have become and hope to the darkness all around us.

It is you and it has always been you...

you.

You that soothes and excites and spreads joy like rainfall on the already damp earth; You that pulled me from the longest sleep and kissed my tired eyelids awake.

If life is a question mark, then you, my love, are the proud and bold period that is typed with certainty.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson