A wild forest is she, a covert forest is she
Donned in a sable jacket and thin-rimmed lenses
In this city jungle, to suffocate is the norm
But her presence is a breath of the freshest air
Air that stirs life in the corners of my lungs
In the hollows at the pit of my stomach
In my arteries, in all places until my puny fingertips
A wild forest, her sockets as designated firmaments
The palace of browns that blinded me, ensnared me
And when they curved into midnight crescents
I lost my breath, I missed a life beat
Her visage, a stunning union of night and day
A sight that douses a pleasing warmth on my frigid soul
And enlivening chills on my every bone
Honey-glossed dusty rose petals are her mouth
Their softness still yet to be known
With a smile so enthralling, laugh so riveting
Hers is the symphony that renders birds listening
Words that emulate soft rustles of juvenile leaves
Ironic how they placate and intensify quakes in my ribs
She is a sturdy tree, lacking beside crystalline skyscrapers
But her branches promise sojourn for my fatigued frame
A bed of grass drizzled with morning dew, her palms
Vines that I wish to braid my bi-colored locks, her fingers
And her skin, the bark my curious fingers want to trace
The surface where my nails desire to carve my name
And she, in her glorious entirety
Is a signal for the beginning of the stampede
Sending my gait unsteady
Cajoling my stone bricks to remodel its tracks
She is a wild forest amidst the bustling cities
A land of fertile soil with wild plants and flowers springing
From her chest, her wonderful mind
And I, once an eon of drought
Now an eager seed wishing to grow
With her healthy yellows and greens, I yearn to grow

I received a query that grasped my attention
A certain query that induced me to ponder
To recall the yesterdays and the yesternights
Why don’t you write as much, someone wonders

The curious fellow deems my works lovely
And went another mile to call me, the poet, just the same
Similarly, I pause to ask myself
Are lethargic hands and an uninspired heart to blame?

I say no and I disprove this idea
Never have I ceased to write all this time
I’ve adapted various methods and materials
I’ve learned that words and verses are not prime

Now, I deliver metaphors directly from my fingertips
My every touch is a verse, every breath is a poetic line
I carve words on wood, on the fleeting breeze, on warm skin
My works are now cherished moments I entwine

Threads out of smiles and laughter, I weave into blankets
The comfort i turn to in days with somber frigid weather
My lingering gazes are poems unconventionally spoken
To write about desire is abortive, to feel the burn is better

A moment with another is an extemporaneous collaboration
My friends and lover are writers in their own right
Whether amateur or sophisticated, they create poetry
I conceal pens and papers lest they flee in fright

So you see, I have never stopped composing
I've been writing in ways the eyes might not see
I’m a breathing vessel of born and unborn literary creations
A writer with a penchant for a form called free

Though not at fault, I sing apologies
Seeking clemency through melodious songs and broken symphonies
These hands cannot concoct the needed remedies
And are notorious for exacerbating tragedies

We traversed a single road and at the divarication
A duet of goodbyes signaled the shifting of attention
The surroundings committed an aberration
Yielding you years of consistent tribulations

Enigmatic is how the unpredictable universe shall eternally operate
To its oscillating desires, the hands of time convulate
I deem us victims of it and its partner, mischievous fate
When the world slowed down for you, they made mine accelerate

Summer days and spring mornings have gone
Every leaf has fallen from its parent tree
Homes are now blanketed with thick ivory snow
Under this pitch-black sky, I stood alone
Nothing but the wind's breeze as my company

I stood alone; I have always stood alone

Miles, I have travelled and many faces, I have descried
I walked on different lands but to no avail
Summer nights and spring mornings passed
Snowy nights and the sight of falling leaves I have seen

Under this pitch-black sky, alone, I still stood alone

Little girls, little boys
Candy canes and flashy toys
A soft call, an enticing treat
Two obedient little feet
A huge smile, an invitation
A fun adventure to damnation
Restricted visions, muffled cries
Sugar bricks leading to demise

Fabrics gone, all we are is perceivably bare
Clad only in conspicuous licentious flare
Every kiss delivers quakes on the planes of my frame
Your every touch sets my skin aflame
Your words and whispers are bewitching spells
Expelling continent thoughts that in my head dwells
Each ****** sends me a hundred miles closer to the sky
Each stroke deliberately guiding me to fly
And once our souls finally amalgamate
Lines on your palms lead me to the gates
A place where there's only blissful demise
The gates, the entry to carnal paradise

What is mighty and great
Is feeble, and the high
Is merely just a low, and I
Was left as an unsightly mess

After a stupendous tsunami
Of amalgamated emotions

Has entirely devoured me in a

Fleeting second; loud sirens
Wish not to exacerbate
But to hinder the havoc
That will surely occur
Once the growing desire
To finally liberate what

Has been kept and hidden;
The mind defiantly refuses to

Heed warnings, for a maelstrom
Of rejection compared to
That of regret that is so sheer
Is a far better choice

And for this reason I

Fervently wish that I will
Be given the opportunity so I
Can go beyond just a spark
And then commence a wildfire

For now I am a mess in misery
As I wait for the stars to
Align, and the shackles to bid adieu