Sometimes I'll be laughing and smiling and listening to music. And dubstep will come on.
Or I'll be relaxed and peaceful walking through the forest. And I'll see a fallen tree.
Or I'll see a plate a brownies, simple, present, there.
And suddenly everything will leave my mind.
I'll become overwhelmed with sadness
And memories of you.
I'll close my eyes and feel your lips on mine,
Tears will fill my eyes and I'll feel your arms around me.
You are stitched into everything,
These little things have your scent woven into them.
They remind me of how well I knew you,
And how much you made me love you.
They remind me of the mornings we spent in each others warmth,
And of the gentle kisses exchanged.
They remind me of hellos and goodbyes and more than anything they remind me of the day you said
"I love you."
They remind me that you were never mine to love,
That your heart was always with her.
They remind me of the day you told me kissing me was a mistake.
They remind me that you never loved me, that I was nothing more than
another girl.

No, I was torn naked and bleeding from the mouth of a death star
and woke to find mountains laid bare by the sea.
In the shallows of blood baths and craters, where the crushers of garlic and the harlots all meet
and the stiflers of dreams, dream on (right up my street)
that's where you'll find me.

In the 'Benbow' with pirates and pieces of eight and with cords tied to timepieces
(don't want to be late)
and the show starts at nine
when after drinking two bottles of cheap German wine
Salome appears with a head in her lap
we clap
because that's what we do.
(Lost innocents are few and we ain't none of all that)

But the ship sailed at four carrying whalebones to Spain
to tighten the corsets
for those Senoritas
who put me to such shame.
What's in a name that it's spat on the floor
by crimson clad virgins
who won't leave the doorways of bodegas
and Degas paints on.

A shanty
a song and the night carries me along on a wave of cheap scent
where oft' I have spent a weeks earnings on unsatisfied
yearnings.

In the end someone will send me a typewritten note or a telegram
to let me know just who and what I am
until then
in the 'Benbow' 'til ten and the crows crow at midnight when the lights all go out.

..and the morning came
you stood there naked by the window frame
I lit a cigarette
and couldn't get your image out of my mind
which was fogged up
clogged up
with you and your scent
what we had yesterday evening
meant so much
that first tentative touch
the kiss
caress.
Did we take time to undress
was it so hot or was it just me
was the fire that we lit, that explosion we heard
did we hear or care
after the sharing
that magical moment of pairing and did we really split heavens?
heaven yes
I know we did.

So you look out the window
and I wonder where this will go
and come back to bed dear
let me get nearer again.

He was the shadow of a lonely man,
struck by fire, and sparks, and the shock
of a long lost ghost, of,
the girl he had loved.

He lost his touch as he had fallen,
and had swore he was tall with
the faults of his own, but,
he lost like a petal
left on it's own,
in the fall of his winter;
he never did bloom.

He left his beloved in
the scent of his clothes,
when she faded with dismay,
and he forged her signature
like the deed to his soul.

He built her a home,
a set of bones, like a chamber,
in his only chamber.

Beneath his metal chest,
of a soldier who had lost,
and his love in his heart,
caged in like a menegerie.

There, she was safe,
and she was kept tight.
A little memento,
that she couldn't fight.

A lock and a key to keep
her in place.
She was locked in his heart,
and she couldn't escape.

But, alas, she grew restless,
and knew she must go.
But he kept her in place,
in his chamber, her home.

I remember every inch of you
and those memories come
back to haunt me now, while i
toss and turn, attempting
any semblance of rest.

but there is no escaping you.
you are so clear, so fresh
in my mind that, when
i close my eyes, i imagine
i can hear you breathing in
this bed next to me.
i feel the warmth of
your skin. i feel your
hands on my waist,
pulling me close while
your full lips press against
mine, my fingers in
the hair at the back
of your neck

I can see every tiny detail
of your face.
the mole near your lip,
the tiny scar on your
forehead, the skin tab
on your eyelid, the little
hairs on your chin and cheeks.

the softness of your skin
how it was perfect.
plush to the touch,
not skinny or hard
but not fat

the way your pubic hair would
have the most perfect tiny
curls, how it felt between
my fingers. Soft, unexpectedly

the hair on your legs made
you manly. your calves
so strong. Anyone could
see that those legs
were going to take you
places.

How- when i would
straddle your stomach and
you would pull your arms
above your head,
                 valleys would form

valleys would form in your
armpits, where your glorious
scent was the one
smell that let me know
i was home.

You were my home.

Valleys would form, craters
would appear in your
collarbone, jutting out in
a way that i couldn't
resist touching.

your nipples, tiny
hills. you would always
complain, but
you were so beautiful.

the toenails on your big toes
were broad and flat
hair growing on the
                        top of your foot


if only you were here
      tonight

I would kiss every inch of you

until you truly understood

how much I miss you.
I miss you.
You and only you.

mi Alejito,
                mi amor

First in bombastic burst of a scent,
Colours from these thick winds heaven sent.
A lift in my head with these winds in your hair;

Our old magic (trickless) springs a hatless hare,
Faultless as firmament spins a perfect rose.
Colours that can thin any illusion, in our music rose-

Whirling where euphony may curse thorns and pains.
Worst is how these colours stain clear window panes,
Where darkness had deftly set how fire rules awe!

Colonial mansion, in an ocean of grass,
windows aglow as I walk past.
funeral service now used of verandah,
but I hear music, not mournful stanza.
french doors open to a reminisce,
with boyhood heart, of vitreous.

Footfalls on parquet floors,
tux and gown past crown moulded doors.
captured ambiance of a setting sun,
shown from chandeliers highly hung,
day I was born, born day of the prom,
I smiled cordially, and my date fawned.

girls betrothed by corsage on wrist,
rare french curls--a lunar eclipse.
bedraggle boys now dapper and genteel,
vest and bowtie, a knightly feel.
chapperesses smiling at maidenly gait,
happy drowse in  mansion estate.

cufflinks, silk gloves, nail polish of gloss,
beheld tonics and sweets, carefully aloft.
opening cord, an arrow from cupid's bow,
striking coquettes to their tippy toes.
they sprang to dance,I stepped back,
invisible in shadow with tux of black.

shoulders, lake ripples easing to shore,
hips, gentle waves, right before pour.
boys stiff, as if waists beheld sabres,
legs, sweeping brooms of on shore waiters.
"your too handsome to stay here unseen,"
said rivaling chaperess, semblance of queen.

"you should dance ,"said glittered lips of pink,
bent like sparrow wings, during teacup drink.
privy to why in shadow I hid my blush,
her class my crush, that crushed me so much.
she strained me, even the shadows she gave,
black silk, stretching,--convex and concave.

crude metal and wood classroom seat,
clasped her waist of slender physique.
she was guarded by a window in curtain mail,
and tended to by servants of light and gale.
light loved her skin of mediterranean sand,
and wind enraptured with brown strand.

light penetrated strands, blondly hot,
wind would blow, cooling pony tail off.
her shadow curtsied under my desk,
long legs danced in irritableness.
mourning class is abuzz with scent of prom,
flower not frost, rules the school's dawn.

I gave my consent,to an earlier invite,
then on, suitor blinded me with light.
and Great Gatsy, and looming prom night,
subjects of sparrow wings pressed tight.
" show of hands, who do not have a date?"
slender wrist arises, from an arm curvate.

alone, she shown that no one asked her,
this stone of Rome amongst boys of plaster.
hand fell with boy of teachers match,
wind shrouded her,from the window sash
rays gave discomfort,to gaze her way,
but I looked through burning ray.

to see a trace of a tear,in eyes ovate,
a godess unsought, with sadful face.
I, poor, fatherless, could not possible go,
to prom, with princess of arched portico?
I could not interweave my hands to dance,
or know, where I could place my glance.

wind blew a scrap from her desk, indiscreet,
it was pierced by light at my feet.
"will" and "with" were dotted with a heart,
"prom" and "me" before most painful part.
my name in her beautfiul free hand,
the colour red, from hearts inkstand.

class bell rings, I travel to mansion dream,
blue grass meet oriel in cul de sac seam.
eyes turn to cotton, in shadow as I ponder,
as pain was forgotten, I came upon her.
invisible hands, lifted my chin to a red shape,
our eyes met, her's smiling, mine agape.

only a glassmaker could imagine my sight,
seeing hot curves form in dance floor light.
only a wax-wing could have rivaled her eyes,
waves gently broke to gown down her thighs.
"will you dance with me,"she softly entreated,
" I don't know how,"a coward repeated.

a princess which tournaments were held,
for which every timber of mansion were felled.
not for Greece, mansion corinthian column,
for her, from quarry prom did befall them.
I could not tarnish this feminine form,
with my lineage in crown she adorned.

I turned from beauty, to dark acres tread,
under willow, I play the last thing she said.
my name, as I shunned from last chance,
back under willow, cane marks my stance.
I have preserved her forever, shying fate,
even if it was with my own heart-break.
*
I still see her--in the most beautiful prom poses,
still, I see her, as lights flicker out, and a coffin closes.

Breakup for the makeup, the sex is is poetry within itself. Loving you is bad for me...it's bad for my self esteem, and it's bad for my health. I feel bad when I see how I make you so weak...to see a grown man tear up, and do crazy shit without stopping to think. You love the curve off my hips, the scent of my hair and my soft full lips. The birthmark on my wrist, and the one on my ribs which you never miss to kiss. The tone of my voice when I'm grilling you, the sparkle in my eye....when you recognize just how much I'm feeling you. It hurts me every time when you doubt how much I love you, because you're not the only one strokin'.....but you're the only one I make love to.

And the passionate kisses tell it all. I got up from your lap and slid off your pants, then ripped down your draws. I worked my way down and started slowly, deep throated your love as I played with your.....You ripped me up by my hair so I can tell you're still mad, then you bent me over and slapped my ass, as hard as you could, and then you put him in me and I gripped every inch of your manhood. And you know I can't take it. Your nails dug into my sides, and thrusted so hard thinking I'd run...but you know I can take it. We switched then I started to ride, the anger in your eyes became harder for you to hide. Repeating your insults to you "I'm a bitch, I'm a hoe and I'm so fucking selfish." And I gripped on your neck, just as I felt your legs clam like shellfish. Fast and slow, I like watching your face, so I switch up the pace...and ride fast then slow. "I love you." Now I got you, not a second too early, not a second too late. You flipped me on my stomach and I felt all your weight. You started to pant extra hard and I told you to wait. I wasn't done, you pushed my face into the pillow as I felt you cum. Couldn't bring yourself to pull out.....fin.

But we know how your men swim. And I'm not on birth control so let's pray that I don't get pregnant again.