In the day  
when sundry eyes cast envious glances,  
we share the same couch—  
your head resting in my lap,  
your temple syncing with my pulse.  

In the night
just you and me—  
or you and me separated by screens,  
your breath curling like a rattlesnake,  
your vampire teeth peeking through.  

You don’t reply.  
You answer in your head—  
or not at all.  
You skip my texts like stones on water.  

And I—  
I cannot cry.  
That’s what I know.  
I’m a man, darling.  
I have manly genes.  
So I forge words.  

I write them until I cannot,  
until the rhyme dries up—  
when all poets sleep,  
when my foes grow tired of watching,  
when creatures of the night stop chiseling the air.  

Still,  
I type—  
through the silence.

I'm not a poet
I'm just emotional
twenty-something emotions
those hit hard

I'm not a poet
only a sleepwalker,
my fingers burning to type
my laptop keyboard so well-lit
so I fall into the desire

I'm not a poet
I just whisper to a quiet altar called Hello Poetry
a fatal attraction
so I type
welcome to the cult

I’d like to talk about spring,
About nature’s breathe with fresh
And breezy mornings, sunny days,
About feelings in spring plesh.

I’d like to talk about love,
The one that takes you all, in whole!
It’s in your heart! It is inside!
It makes a magic just for all!

I’d like to talk about myself,
The one that I don’t even know,
About myself with different fate…
But truly, I guess I’d better go.

The sun is drowning
And the day finally cease
And as the light falls
The night takes from me another piece
But it's ok
What's better than getting close
To the end I always chose
and it's not... getting to Greece
It's ok
the day goes
And i don't care if i overdose
At least i enjoyed it
At least I'm at peace

What am I,
if I can’t let her go?
If others move on,
find new faces,
new lives,
but I stay here,
chained to a ghost
I don’t want to forget?

Do they love less?
Or do I love too much?
Did I lose myself
in her laugh, her touch,
the way she existed
so effortlessly near me?

I don’t want to move on.
I don’t want a new story.
I’d rather love her
with all the weight of this ache.
for years, for decades,
for the rest of my life.

If that’s wrong,
then what am I?

~
She smiles only in pictures
Her hair is growing long

With eyes closed
Au coucher du soleil
Her voice is dulcet
Her laugh is nexus

"Take me with you," she says.
"We'll make kites, we'll steal land."

The gentle arrival of rain
In the blue hour of
The portrait gallery
Makes her qualified to dream
About a serenade of water
And the blueberry boat
~

When all is done and I become with the stars,
Will you remember me?
For I have accomplished nothing,
Can you remember me?
I hurt you and you hurt me,
After all that, will you still remember me?
If I can't even remember myself,
Will you still remember me?