global wealth--
young slave's crusted mouth
no longer begs aloud

This was supposed to be the poem I wrote without any reference to
my love for you, but it seems the only pretty things
I can say are about us.

I question what you have never wondered about, but
somehow I wonder because of you.

How is it that we survived last summer’s big rainstorm without an
umbrella, and were motionless under it
until you shook me so I would remember to breathe.

Thinking
I have never slid my arm into a man’s sweater when I got cold,
put the other ***’s fabric around my body,

would have been nice that night.

But it could not have been so bad. I peeled my wet clothes off
like a tease, wishing that somehow you
could be watching me through the closed bathroom stall.

Soon
I don’t know if it was you or the blankets
that swallowed my hips, as if being inserted underground,
I just know that six hours later I woke up sore from feeling so safe.

From you, I learned that no one can rewind seasons
to take back mean words or return pine trees their old cones

and the next time you call
I should thank you for telling me what you have for breakfast each
morning, what you make for dinner and midnight snacks.

So you **** me
It is off, the sun,
Since you are gone
I try not to think about you
But everything talks to me about you
Vorrei stringerti forte
This night, the city seems very beautiful to me

who knows if you are sleeping


So you **** me
The moon has begun a new cycle
Since I have left
I cannot help but think of you
As everything here cries out for your touch
Non avrei lasciato*
This night, it seems so very cold to me

how could I possibly be sleeping

Her hair is like the of the sun.   Her eyes are like the color of brown gemstones.   When I am her, every nerve in my body tells me this is right.       What shall I do with these feelings ? Should I push them astray?  Or should I express them in a loving way? Each step I take towards her feels like she is father away. The decision was made for me. The truth blurted out. Her feelings were not the same. I ran away with my feelings still intact. The next day I still watch her from a far but it was different. There is no hope but all my nerves kept telling me this is right. That my feelings for her is right. I went home and all I could think about was her. What's wrong with me what does the world see in me? I pick up a pen and paper and wrote my feelings for her one final time. At the end of the note it said, I love you. I walked into the kitchen and looked at the knife and looked at my writs and I knew it was time. As I closed my eyes my blood trickled down into a puddle. I realized something important everyone should know. Love hurts more than it pleases.

THE SIGN* arrived, with masking tape,
stuck upon the door.
                                    TRASH BAG WARNING
it yelled
(with smiley face)
                                  ~I cannot see the floor!~

A sigh was heard
- by all the house -
the sign read ALOUD, once more.

                                               CRASH  
                                                    &
                                                BANG,  
                                                soon followed it, as my Batgirl
                                                >slammed< her door!

And maybe,
there was a curse or two;
Beneath her breath   repeated.
But
life went on,
with nothing wrong &
the pile of stuff depleted!

Although,
it took the loudest hour,
'til Batgirl opened her door.
Trash bag tied   with masking tape
& 'the amended sign' re-applied

                                       "NB:
                                             Holy tidy rooms,
                                             Batgirls' done it!                          
                                             DONE & DUSTED
                                                                ­ 
  
                                           
                ­  Whilst         the P.S. made us both smile...                                                         ­        
                              
                         ­             (Obviously not literally dusted, Mum, 
                                        but even you, The Joker, can get the gist!)"

*For-given the prior scene of teenage devastation... Batgirls' reply had been superhero swift!

It keeps her warm
her mind so weak
Not to know
not to seek

With every bite we eat
we starve one another
Then giving four mans share of food
as to save one brother

Corners cut and people swooned
jumping miles ahead
Who minds what the farmer does
as long as there is bread?

Thus I will hide my blade
and do this for my love
In my pocket and to the grave
No storm left while I dwell above.

It keeps her warm
her mind so weak
Not to know
not to seek.