Your face blush is like red tomatoes
that look almost pink; you give out this
warm kind of smile, that blankets me by surprise
beneath the second nature of your silver eyes
the words of affirmations you give me, grants
me tears, and gives me so much poetry to write

Holding time to each other in these aging hands
let’s build a blue house to hide away our blues-
bites of the sound of love to your ears pricked
behind my eyes pictured window; I can still see
through your body’s frame- with those tired eyes
that once bought into dreams, I’ll sell you the rest

Let the enhancement of those weights give a better
feeling to your life, as salt over your horizon’s shoulder,
wait, as we wait to get much older- the days must get older
for our hearts to both to feel much warmer. Those tomatoes
will still remain so red, to their well appearance- you’ve
kept me well fed.

Zip tie lock your legs- anchor down your stress;
change the fabric address of that nice sunny dress
Body full of blows, skin made of dust; counting on hope,
joy, and sorrow, every after hour of the day’s settled dusk
From telling thin lies from the thick of red lips on a reed,
to all those gears of ideas start to shift away- taking steps
in reverse, when everything is exposed of your old deeds

Tears in the river of tiny ripples to the sound of love;
to be honest it’s an unfamiliar sound- 3,500 mites;
become a float of those ticking ideas. Scrums around the
clock, sharing bread crumbs with old chums— those few
who actually stuck around

As time starts to show, on the flakes of skin, the loss of
strong hairs; you feel much older to a recent picture-
the unfamiliar creature, invisible to so many people
But with a smile, you appreciate all the places you have
been. You must be ready to meet your King…

Good enough lips for old discussions; acoustic ears pulling
at the strings of all we get to hear; I wish you were still here
Turning the dial, that familiar sensual feeling on life’s radio;
you were just a stereo—two channels away from falling in love,
in a forgotten tune of something close to an old love

My slow breaths exhaling, to your many breaths
inhaling; swallowing words to a prayer; happily fasting
on every time it takes, to admit why you actually fell in love
Filtering most of the hate I once had for you, funnelled out
of my folded brain— paper notes of love letters I kept away
from my curious friends

Dreaming of falling in love; soaked tears in my eyes, during-
to just to recall it all, as a *******; as if I were falling
from mountain springs; cold to your very touch of another
winter’s rain. And in a single way, I kind of enjoyed being
single for just another day

Teardrop echoes; the tone of your skin drains away,
painting another picture of the night. Whistle-blowers of the night-
torchbearers of the day; kids fighting each other for tree turfs;
skipping stones at early morning ducks. But their mother
inside doesn’t have much time to duck his punch

Well domesticated dogs, too afraid to bark at the night’s
domestic violence. Dominated skin under the dominator’s tight
hands; the love of a shape-shifter— changing its skin to appear
loving for ten pairs of eyes; striking down with a false picture
of love- to the sight of six eyes. Like claws that sink into your
skin; he’s drunk again!

A day away from shelter; for a heaven that does exist from
one’s bruised knees. For all the hurt draped over troubled
shoulders, unfurled eyes crying silent tears bouncing off
the walls

                     A child in the next room hears the teardrop echoes

High on all of the places, I shouldn't survive
-afraid of heights; above myself but also
uncomfortable being so low towards others

Solo: in feeling I must
face all my pains alone

                    That's a notion highly questioned

Adrift in time, I wander down
a long-neglected path, heading straight
for the essence of my being, into the hidden
corners that linger in anticipation, where memories
rest heavy with significance

I stand before a gate, the doorbell echoing
with urgency, its chime resonating deep within me—
each press of the button feels like a heartbeat,
fulfilling its purpose. I can only hope it remains
intact; to maybe crack an indestructible clasp.

Tell me if I read the language of your looks
then I would say you look so good in my books
I didn’t have much to say in person, but just love quotes
and I tried to wave you hello, but you must have been
on another boat

Teenage fever: is the heat of being in love so young
there’s a fire right through your skin- a burning glass
with that bright smile, to give jealousy to the rays of
the Sun

And I felt so wrapped in feelings just by your touch
like a ball of wool, my materiel of words all become
undone…