When a man loves his wife he loves himself
I have heard it said
and I’ve read
of the interplay
of self love and love of another.
Can I love my brother, cherish my mother
if I do not accept myself?  
I’m still unclear which comes first or if this dilemma
circles and confounds
and will puzzle me forever.  

But I know with sureness when I love you
you soften and look at me with those big brown eyes
and sometimes I think I detect mist there
and when I run my fingers through your hair
I know your complexity and gentleness.
When I embrace you I know the fullness of your heart
that you loved me from the start
but even more now my precious one.

Maybe being a man this paradox of the circle of love
will never be mentally clear
but in my heart I know, my dear,
my love for you makes me me.

Both can ****
        The only difference is
                      Cigarettes shatter lungs
         She shatters everything

            I remembered the first moment
my lips pressed the filter
     as I lit it up breathed it all
                savored every smoke
       as if we covered up painful lies
        in a container of painkillers

The same way  
we used to pressed our lips
     sparked something between us
           savored every moment we had
    as if our love was a rose
               in a valley of tulips