Busy as much; busy as a bee
serving sweet remarks to a Queen
The hours are long, and we’re always
swarming with activity

Everyday business is always so sweet, and
even given a pet named— the retirement
package for it though, kind of stings

Every colleague of mine seems to know
what’s the buzz; and our clientele do carry a
good scent- something like flowers

…just another day for the life of a bee

As much, in every man’s eye- eroticism brings excitement,
the lines of wrinkled sheets are a retreat without restraint
Every one of our kisses tastes like they matter; we flatter
each other on playing it casual— until anticipated and complete
She is no less than a queen; she sits on my thrown, ruled by these
words- all the shells of the shots I’ve shot; whenever we're around
we stain the ground; inhaling a bit of hell, with every bad habit

Moisture: more so to the reply of, “yes sir”
her tears echo soothing rain, but these tired red eyes don't see
much love- but still when it comes to touch; I'm filled with ideas
by her flood. Words keeping on flowing; but my regards to any
authority, I've been living lawlessly - against her authority

Old habits can’t really die when they pass,
even as an *** shakes backwards, with all the regrets to take
me back to my past. You can still taste a lot of things much harder
to swallow than your pride— that burning heat of passion, from
your mouth’s chamber: an abode of sweet remembrance
Now, as we must, not discuss about the label of us- in a nutshell
the conversation changes tone after someone’s nut is bust
****, how rough is that- we played a role to work ourselves
out of lust. We call each other, our Devil’s assistant…

Everything will become nothing; snuggling closely
To all those days much brighter than yesterday
Running out of places to hide my shadow- a rush hour
Of emotions, hoping not to get stuck in more traffic
Laying on the sofa, putting a lot of thoughts in place
While she does so too, re-arranging her wig; sipping on cola
Weaving, adoring words to say at little speaking volumes;
Channelling together those gentle souls; generally speaking
Of how her tears sink away into the grass, like thirsty water
Thursday nights, where I’m planning to disappear into the earth
Folding into old habits with origami precision; time’s prison
Is feasting on me for dinner, and I’m drinking myself thinking
I don’t appreciate the time you and I spend together
But I argue with myself about it, when you’re only away

And it’s funny, how I’d pretend not to care;
Now here is the man who cares enough when you’re not there

Oh, is the sweet and delicate embrace; such a tight
and warm hug, but it had smashed my bouquet of flowers.
I picked you out of the bunch; I wandered down a forest trail
brushing with death- a kiss by her lips. And around me, was the
sight of your experienced skins; carpeted with yellow leaves, blessed
by the caressing sun. The cool of your eyes- is a walk by the lagoon,
your warm bud of tears falls into my eyes, and swell it up, to bloom.
The Sun rules over our lives, that Moon quietly covers our pain with
those nights of laughter; the canopy of our dreams, quietly fall away
as like the leaves. My tongue bares roots, and my words do try to promise
flowers- with every saturated thought, shaped out as petals opened wide.
The first time I saw it, I was entirely unaware of what waited below my lows.

To— step out of myself, was the place our story had begun. And to this,
each tree I see around me, reminds me of you- the first tree I as a child,
were brave enough to climb.

My thought’s nature is so chain-free; though when
it comes to missing links of love [I’m so incomplete]
A love for you, locked by the links we’ve made; we are
slaves to each other, and I know it sounds shameless in its
message relayed; still from the sound of your voice, there’s
something in the air- with the pauses in between conversations;
All the invitation of the opportunity to kiss each other, to clear
out that awkward air

Before birth and afterwards, I seem passionate over your touch
as like a youth- waiting to take your hand and speak for us
whenever the ask if we’re in love. And in the soil, I’ve buried my heart,
still feelings of it are so light, that they all grow out with delight
Our laughter spreads across the land of a bedspread, and their little
giggles in between, are like daisies sticking out on the lawn
So, if we bury all our memories in the wrinkled sheets-
our beds are our graves; that could remember far better, with their
memory foam mattress [Darling, I will cover you]

Destined; your eyes are painted out as the map of life; as no night
convinces my tomorrow to look away from the destination you
inspire me to take- your love is a buried treasure, and my words
mark it with an X;- not as the many exes I once treasured in the
promise of a forever after [it was more of a pipe dream]

As it goes on, this art of falling in love; I’m only now getting
a grip of the bigger picture;- it’s larger and larger, swelling up
my eyes, to as always be blinded by love- the lovebug’s bite,
so smitten, but squished by childish designs; us as children
imagining our perfect kind of lives, when we used to play house
Packed away hopes in an imaginary bag; let a night open that
suitcase- to imagine ourselves living together until our ages
are much visible in our own hands

Those firm and beautiful kisses, get ruined over many soft decades;
as the trace of my fingertips, feels like cheap clay on your skin-
My warm regarded touch, fills your cheeks in chill of morning breeze
When you fail to see your reflection, once from the shyness of
your lashes eyes opening;- where you can only hear someone else’s
voice reading through the Song of Songs. Our time together, is all
destined to be gone- so let’s enjoy what we have now, for how
long it comes

Imposed by a scent of the back chatter,
behind the air of the hair tucked by your ear
once a soul that was merely an imposter
The intense pleasure continues on- waking up
to the sound of dawn; under the thinnest of clouds
thin as butter- as the sunlight spreads across
The edge of their world; as like two legs spread apart
with a promise of a night filled with wet love
Two lips are meeting in the yellow shivers, beneath
the huge gems of eyes, that hold out a jewelled pleasure

The two resting upon a bed made out of barley;
filled in intoxicating lines of brand-new sheets-
The smell of regret only shows as the rise of after cigarettes
The towers of greying tired eyes; numb under the tomb’s
excrete- the cold breathes of kissing with a cold heart,
lifts the fur of a lion’s haunches

***** buckled by the belt wrapped around one’s desire
at another attempt- it’s no stranger, then the grave on
the tongue of a perfectly dead conversation
And about then, he wonders how could he go back to
the past, once where they were just casual friends…