Examination

Poets
get to examine
the
layers of
words,
dissection in between
the
feelings,
syllables,
and characters
that
blend without
being
told
to
do so.
Poets
also
feel out the
unspoken
gifts,
giving grace notes
to
the
unused
letters,
and
if they’re
lucky,
they
will get
the chance
to
grow into
the
words
toddlers
say.
See,
we poets
are
dreamers
and framers of
things,
so
let
this
poet fall back
into
place
without
too
much noise
from
the decimals
and
misunderstood
fractions.

M.C. Davis

On Missing

See,
our fingers just
left
their space,
all
entangled
and reaching for
more
sources.
I’m
missing a bit
of our
touch,
the elegance
of it all,
as
our bodies
collide
on purpose
and with intent.
I’m missing
the
taste,
the
fragrance,
and the layering
of
what we give
back
to the Universe,
and
if itĀ gets
too
late,
we always
have
the
option
to simply
exist in our own
beautiful
space.

M.C. Davis

Like This

No love
like this
simply
falls
into
place,
it
saunters
and swims its
way
to
the depths,
and
our fear
of this dance
just
floats like
a
feather does
on
a cool
windy
day.
A love
like this
feel like sun-drenched
rain,
misting
but not
damp
enough to matter
to
the view ahead.
See,
let’s
forget the rules
and
let
this moment
exist
without
paragraphs,
syllables,
of those
things that cause
our
sentences
to
end.

M.C. Davis

Space

Vivaldi
took a few
notes and syllables,
scrambled them
into
a few more
notes;
paragraphs
structured
to dictate
your movement,
and
now we
get to fill
our
bellies
full.

See,
rhythm
just paved
the
way for our
love
to find
each other.
This
poet’s
only request
is
to
not let
this
simply
stop
with
Vivaldi
and
his
chromatic
prose.

M.C. Davis

In The Event

In the
event
that we
crash,
let’s
find
a place
in
the middle
where
we can
let
the leaves
dance
in between
our toes,
or
the waves,
let them
glimmer
into
the crevices
of
our existence,
like
the Gods
do
when the
day
is over and
done
with.

In
the event
that
we
crash,
let’s
get
as close together
to
avoid
my
hands slipping
from
yours,
or our
smells
losing
their way
to
our love.

M.C. Davis

Pressure

See,
not everyone
can
handle this
pressure,
like
a star
does when she’s
tired
of running,
or
a layer
of
a
comet that
simply
falls
without
gravity’s
tug.
See,
this pressure
just
feels right,
and
we’re
right in the middle,
mixing our
vibes
and channeling
these walls.
Let
this pressure
rise
like yeast,
but
in the meantime,
let’s
see
about these
layers,
filters,
smokescreens
and
just
get down
to these
sheets.

M.C. Davis

How We Met

See,
we met through
the
caress of the Universe,
smooth
like a
windless
day,
or a timeline
that
leaves
a
few measures
of rest
in
between the
chromatic notes.

We left
the
days
to linger loosely,
and
while
our moment shifted
to
love,
our skin tones
blended
like one
does
as the night’s
air
fights
for a place in line
from the daylight’s
stubbornness.

See,
we met through
the caress
of the Universe,
and
for once,
we get
to
become the Universe.
We get
to
lounge
around,
and like you,
we
get to become
that
beauty
that exists
within
the beauty.

M.C. Davis

What We Need

 

What
we need,
are
the love
things
that
fill in the crevices,
and
flow
from one
river
to
another without
permission.

What
we need are
the
pieces
the puzzle
that don’t fit,
but
need to be
there,
or
the sun’s
need to shine
when
a bit
of
darkness
will
do.

What we
need
are the words
to
be shorter,
but
carry
us beyond the stretch,
and
a life
together
where
we only get to
find
more
reasons
to
love
each other.

M.C. Davis