I can write about you    forever
About the small things I remember
Of all the pain  and childish habits I
Had when it came to knowing you
Like milkshake dates we never had
Because I was too scared and you were
Too silent
Like watching you through binoculars and back and
Forths from our balconies you must have
Thought I was a creep
And I thought you were divine
And yet when we did sit next to each other
We just didn’t   know what to talk about
And no matter how much I told myself
That you simply took the breath out of me,
I knew    we just weren’t meant  to know
Too much about each other

You remain untouchable  like a legend,
I flipped your pages just enough to
Smell your   soul   and then let you
Take your course, wherever it took you
I don’t desire to know

Ok ok,    I may have skewed the details
Like how you were   digging the deep weeds out
And giggled as I fainted from the heat   or when
I said that if I had bigger ****  you wouldn’t have
Me doing    this    type   of   work  
But you did say: Keep  on talkin’ like that   and see
I gutted the gravel and sand bags as you spread them
Out on the yard    who knew leveling the ground
Would be    this ******* hard
At some point, I guzzled a can of ale    and almost
Hit you with the shovel     digging for any type
Of emotion  I admit,  maybe it was just my fault
I was   crying
Your face and clothes were drenched with sweat and
I was so angry that  you hadn’t called me
Beautiful    
And girls like me     we don’t get that
Luxury

I didn’t hear you when you asked for
A kiss

I sang for you when my faults were few,
And my voice did not stop when they too grew.
I said my children would be just like you.
You kissed my cheek and then withdrew.
And when you weren’t there, I felt it still.
I sang for you when my faults were few,
Doubtful my foot would fit into a glass shoe.
But I was the Hum and you were the Hill.
I said my children would be just like you.
You caught the flightless bird that flew,
The outward slave with inner free will.
I sang for you when my faults were few,
When we hadn’t known we were one, but separate: two.
Could you hold my best parts and my worst ones ****?
I said my children would be just like you.
These stars prefer walls of graveled blue.
Could you really love my frailties and skills?
I sang for you when my faults were few,
I want my children to be just like you.

They come out and I wrote
to you that I write nothing new. I write
the same thing in different words and
people don’t change in my plots. So I wrote
to Envy and asked her if she cries often
and why it is she hates women. Maybe she’s a
lesbian, maybe she just loves us too much.

Write of me,
dark eyes and *****
face with drying pink tears,
red with blood,
from dehydration.
Speak to me,
and when your mouth
touches mine,
spit sugar
down my throat.
Walk through brambles,
stupid prince who
will get the beauty
despite
big feet and long
hair.
Do you know
the feeling,
when you’re in too
deep?
Sweet story of your heart,
bitter when it starts;
I’m curious, sad maybe,
write of me. Ellis is not a name.
I am not Ellis.
I do not conquer
hearts of wolves.
Write of me,
prince,
ignorant however,
with sugar-fleshed
cheeks.
Sing.
Sing.

I wonder
what you do in those retreats,
those wanderings into the woods.
What do you accomplish?
What do you fulfill?
Do you hunger perhaps, for the taste of
luxury and collapse?

And I can see you,
bow and arrow on your shoulders,
waiting for the deer.
And what is it that you do, coming back
sweaty and nervous, giddy and wanting,
lusting.
Long-haired, skinny man, dark eyes
and pale-skinned-
you come home    wet.
And I wonder if I can still love you
after all the women
who have followed your steps,
eaten from your mouth, kissed it,
loved you.

You come back hot, red veins
like demons in your eyes. Dark shadows
thirst for what you’ve already
tasted.
Are you some-type of prophet?
Do you think yourself a God, a prince?
Surely no God eats with his fingers.

But do tell me instead that I am a queen,
yours to take and ravish and hold.

And fall from your mountain,
and come down to earth.
For prophets love all women,
and I desire you
for only myself.

In the front seat of your car
When I was younger, and sadder,
You and I used to take long walks and
Take photographs of people here in the City.
Sometimes, we would sit at cafes and exchange
Poems, stories. We were going to be artists, and live the
Good life. But then
I think I fell in love     with the thinness of your frame
And more possibly     your stories and the freeness of your spirit.
And I think       you did not feel the same about me.
Now,      I watch you still and wonder about
the nature
Of your thoughts.  Do you see me grown?
Now you,      an accountant
And me?       Just here.