Sweetest flower of April's touch
veiled upon your *****
permit yourself to blossom
and to these hands clutch.

Futile humility you carry
now that the ring adorns your leaves
our hearts feel genuine and merry
and love, only love they now receive.

To the sound of frying eggs and ding goes the toast
I will think of you the most

because the only thing I wish
is to share with you this dish

but you are far away
and so my heart will stay

craving for a morning with you.

There is a treasure hidden in Palestine
where the formless predict the past,
and in it's trap I've been smitten,
and my death, filled with life looms.

Blackened heart that longed too long
charred to coal in smoking flesh
make ammends within this song
and cease the mind of this unrest.

To these weights do not cling more
the rusting chains that held you back
the sinking bonds beneath your pores
that made your feeling sadly lack.

Please forgive me,

For being absent for so long
Then coming back with no excuse
Because this time I'm wrong
This time I lose.

For seducing you for my pleasure
While my head was on the ground
I've deprived you from your leisure
To the earth you were bound.

For playing god with your pages
When this is no one's book
And it will be for the ages
Dear poetry, my nook.

Pink and blue
was the night's hue
that you looked at me
and I fell for you.

Brilliant stars
surrounding Mars
light us up
in this home of ours.

Temperate air
emits your care
and the lovely strings
that form your hair.

Lovely hand
that mine demands
no more time
can I withstand.

Each beat, a drum;
upon the steps I lay
for the ritual to come:
to carve out my heart
for the consumption of none;
for the crude reality
that is being alone,
and yes, you are here
but, are you here?
or just a part of you
stripped, dismantled
from intimacy?
and so this putrid voice
wishes to convey:
"begin your autopsy
in this body of clay"