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