A cactus in a plastic *** all year ‘round beauty skips.
But to its own advantage, so too, do snails and thrips.

Its outward look gives not the eye the pleasure eyes demand.
It even spitefully responds to its caretaker’s hand.

However, once in a blue moon (If you’ll pardon the cliché)
Sun kissed jewels emerge to show their bountiful array!

Other plants all year ‘round blossom, showing off their prize
But the cactus reveals an unforseen beauty hidden in its guise.

Love!
I’m in it!
Love!
I’ve win it, no! WON it!
Oh **** it! I’m in it!

Erase the anguish
I caused in my thoughtlessness
If only I could

Barely a flutter
To exist is to be feared
Rocks, your only friends.

Your ripple will pulse
Through times’ eternal waters
As if you still live.

Dear Mr Postman,
You brought me more than letters.
Something to hope for.

The word "love" there is no doubt
gets bandied all about
You use it as an epithet
and yet this moniker bestowed
Does nothing to whet
My craving, desire
to explode with the revelatory
notion (and I bemoan) that your devotion
is
to the word alone.

Dear Mr Postman,
I longed and waited for you.
Did you think of me?

Dear Mr Postman,
Are you always so aloof?
Can you know my pain?

I once met a sad little troll.
Who liked to play a mentor role
Suggesting a guide
To one's suicide
But none paid attention at all.