I smoke every cigarette in the pack
long enough that the filters melted
and my lips blacken
like the nightsky,
when you stepped down
the granite staircase
in a burgundy bouclé dress
that radiated brighter than
the chandelier overhead.

All we ever had was enough.
Now I smoke to remember
the nights when the fog
followed us home
and the music of us
slow dancing in silence.

I pack my bags
and I leave my keys at your door.
You hold me close and you whisper:

*"What the hell are you waiting for?"

I either like girls or
older men and I guess
that's not okay to some
people, hell, it's not even
okay to myself, but I can't help
that I like the way girls look with
their ******* off or the way men
look when they have a 5 o'clock
shadow.

I really like the way he wiped my tears
away and they way she always was the
little spoon and the way he held my shoulder
and the way she just knew when i was sad and the
way he just showed me how the shadows are in
different colours of light...

*******, i guess im bi, but
hell i could be wrong.

The world is a Bersinski painting
The rain is a Plath poem
The night is a Fellini film
The day is a Bach cello Suite
Our love is a winter fable
Cold, warm and passing.

The stars are drips of milk
The wind is God breathing
The sky is a floating mirror
The grass is mother earth’s hair
Her ***** is the earth
Shapely, comely and nurturing

French roast coffee is the turning of pages
A scandalous book in a leather bound cover

The Snow outside is the harp strings strumming
Flaking specs falling lightly and patiently

The city is a never-ending waltz
The *** lives are directed by Bertolucci
The homeless vagrants are saints in rags
The People walking are sinners
Each a sphere within a sphere
A world within a world

The theaters are abandoned rib cages
The poets are Russian matryoshka dolls
The painters are lost children
The eyes are broken, stained glass
Your arms and body are home to me
Cradle me, soothe me and touch

Those words won’t do it this time
Sometimes the silence is what I need

And you with me, away from it all

This poem got up and wrote itself
While I was fast asleep
This poem soon enough found out
It had no need for me

Guess it felt it needed to get
A few things off its chest
Wandering around the halls of poetry
While I was snoring in my bed

This poem made its planned escape
From the clutches of my mind
With a basic need that it must feed
On the artistry of rhyme

Taking full advantage of
My unconsciousness
As I lay here dreaming
In my nightly world of bliss

Yes, this poem wrote itself
Without the benefit of me
Proving it can do a better job
When I am sound asleep

The boys in tattered clothes huddle in streets like
bees
So primitive and uncivilized they don't even know
what an iPhone is
Looking famished hands stretched and standing
on their knees
Unfolded palms begging from the men in suits
and ladies in heels
Hoping the heavenly grace may fall on them so
they can find bliss
Their mama at home suckling the young kids
With their dark flopping ******* which produce
milk like beads
The father is dead the uncles are nowhere, who is
responsible for the needs?
So she sends the small boys to the streets where
poverty recedes
They get the few collected coins and buy flour
which their mama make the dough she kneads
These kids with their mama don't know about
education
They never go to school or work so everyday is a
vacation
Bitterness engulfing their lives and can never
avoid depression
****** insanity and malnutrition because of diet
ration
It's miserable to watch such beautiful beings
suffer in frustration
Why can't me and you reach out for them, or all
of us as a nation?

Why do I have to feel this way?
I feel like you never know me.
But we have been friends for ages.

Why do I have to feel this way?
You left me there in cold.
You are not there when I am in need.

Why do I have to feel this way?
I called and called out your name.
But you did not answer me.

Why do I have to feel this way?
We were so close and never fight.
We were like twins.

But you have changed completely.
Out of the blue we are far apart.
Every night I cried to sleep.

Was it something I said?
Was it something I did?
Was it my attitudes?

Oh friends, you left me with thousands of bad thoughts about me.
Oh friends, you left me without reasons.
Oh friends, you left me with lots of hows and whys.
Oh friends, you keep me asking myself.
Oh friends, you keep me blaming myself.

Do not torture me with these feelings.
I beg you.
Tell me what is my fault.
Let me free from these thoughts.

We have promised.
I remember how you told me we will tell each other our problems.
I remember your face and every inch of your smile lines.

You walked by.
You pretended not to see me.
You never know how you have hurt me.

I missed you.
I missed us.
And I can consider us,
As best friends but strangers.