Him

He has a tiny mole above the left side of his lip.
And when he gets excited, he chews the inside of his cheek.
He is a master of sarcasm--
When he has something clever to say,
the right side of his mouth curls up
like he is trying to imitate Elvis.
His chest is oddly misshapen.
I could eat Cheerios out of it if I wanted to.

Without his ribs cradling my back at night,
I almost feel naked.
His legs are lean and lanky,
but I feel secure when he wraps them around my body.
I do not have to wonder about all of this,
for i have inhaled him countless times.
And I feel alive.

For Mr. Harrison

I hear that Mother Nature's son has passed along,
and as my tears mingle with the shower's rain,
I want to devour the soap impression I've made
of him on the tiles with my fingertips.

I have been living with my eyes closed--
Yes, I have,
and so I must fix this hole where the rain
sometimes gets in
because
it is not dying
but
it is knowing
that we are all only sleeping,
waiting for the game existence to end.

**I tried something different with this poem; I used lyrics from Beatle's songs for most of the composition, except lines 2 and 4 are mine.**