I haven’t seen you in four months
I haven’t seen you in four months and now it’s starting to hurt
I thought I’d become immune to you
But I just saw a photograph of you again
And I think I’m coming down with something
Something just doesn’t feel right
You’ve not been in my head for a third of the year
But I saw a guy who looked like you today
And it took all of my strength not to run up and kiss him
To hold his hand like I once held yours when we made origami
I don’t think you’re ever really going to leave me
Just like the tattoo on your leg
You showed me the ink just before I left
And I told you it was stunning
But it wasn’t as stunning as you
You are more than skin deep beauty
You are bones and scarred knees
And skeletal structure
And cheekbones to die for
And whenever I felt like dying
You reminded me why I needed to keep waking up
I sugar coat you like ****
But you were always so sweet to me
I keep tasting you in the three spoonfuls of my tea.

Can
     I sleep beneath the willows in the garden
     In the shade of weeping eaves
You
     Planted deep in soft mulch
     above the hallowed canary grave?
Breathe
     Out  the eerie recollections of
     a marrow chilling orchestra
In
     the confines of
     the white wicker cage.
Song
     I cannot hear
     but I taste in the sap of the willow
As
     it sobs softly
    on my heavy shoulders.
You
    spread a quilt out on the grass
    and whispered to the weeping branches
"Do
     you hear the canary  choir
     ringing through your roots?"
Oxygen
    expired from my lungs
    and I wailed a yellow-bird song.

this poem didn't come easy. written amidst buffeting emo's, V will not be natural flow, probably flawed. You, self-chosen people, will come along, please, to see the process, and the proceeds too.
But as usual, the poem was write before me, needing only human kindness overflowing to guide the way.

V

V words lord, excluding all others,
phonetic juggernauts,
never met a V word
that had no personality.

victory is the one word that
my/our brains
think of first.

sure there is vortex, victuals, veer
and *valor exam,
the latter,
what ever it means is a gift,
curtsy-courtesy of auto-incorrect.

but it is victory
on top,
victorious in its own way.

try it on another if you must...
what is the word that starts with a V
that first comes to mind?

so let us talk of victories.

so oft, I write in the dark,
even as I do now.

came home soul weary,
face worn-worry,
gotta go out to meet
Peter Bogdanovich later,
to chat about his latest movie.

woman looks me over.
X-ray glance,
an MRI of my heart,
no deductible charged,
but oh yes, a co-pay due, indeed!

Peter will keep,
tonight you're-mine,
to bed I send,
right after we consume
Large Thin Mush,
cause pizza with shrooms contains
mood serotonins,
that erase the
"pain of the day"

that be a victory nonpareil.
a Waterloo, a Normandy landing,
that be a victory where
both sides hug and kiss,
and make with their long,
stubby Churchillian fingers,
V's all night long
with goofy grins,
cigars and bowler hats,
just to go along.

so here I am in the dark,
having been "put" to bed,
one mo' time,
slicing and dicing letters
into a word-salade,
instead of resting.

dreaming of the day
when I can no longer need to
pretend to be a Seuss, but truly,
can be writing poems for all my
children~friends.

one for each letter
of the alphabet,
teaching us to write
upon our faces
laugh lines thin and fine,
mine, ours, yours.

product of pizza poems,
some that come not circular,
but tonite shaped
just like a woman,
just like a
*V.

And what an awful feeling it is
to be homesick
In your own home.

When sad, eat some cake.