Whoever originally told you
That your eyes were angry ones
Was a person
Who had never seen love before.

Yeah, I do have an image in my mind of a "perfect man"
few girls don't,
but here's where I differ,
I don't want perfect.

We are birds, plucking each others feathers
Complaining about reasons we can't fly
Tearing each part of each other off
Allowing us to come together as equals
Naked, afraid, and without hope

I can't rightfully
Comment on the color of your eyes,
The swiftness of your thought
Without remarking
On the innocence flowing in your veins
And the worldliness
That's only been present
In drifter gods before you.

Make eye contact a second too long
Don't smile

There it is.

He'll see white knuckles, gripped edges
A piece of universe between her
shoulder blades

He'll feel a supernova, gutter groans
heat of the heavens in a flash

Look away, and back
there it is. Waiting

He told me that he was afraid.
He told me that he had loved just one girl in his life.
And that she had crossed Seven seas and eight worlds by this lonely moment
That we were caught up in the swirls of the green grassy smoke of Mary and Jane.
He told me that I was too pretty for his eyes, mind and soul.
I told him,
It’s a heat and that I was not there to **** him.
I told him that we were just caught in the jingle of the purest heat,
I told him to relax and sleep.
And that I will not touch him.
I told him that I’m a sweet ******.
I told him to stop staring at me with those sweet puppy eyes,
So that I can control my arousal, nausea and heat.
I snuggled close to him on a single bed,
Lulling him and sending strong telepathic heat.
After a while, he turned.
He asked how wrong it would be if he would go soft in between the sacred art of love,
I told him that is the passion and that is the heat.
And that it is to be simply genuine to your rushes wherein *** comes.
I told him *** is not an exam.
I told him that *** is a rush.
I told him that *** is the Heat.
I told him to be simply genuine.
I told him *** is to love.
I asked him if he loved me.
He said, ‘Ami tomako Bhishon Bhalo bhashi’,
Which is Bengali for, ‘I love you very much’.
I creased my brows
And scorned at him saying that he’d just met me,
He said,
That was enough,
And that I was his own soul,
In flesh and Blood.
We made sweet sweet love,
That night.
All night,
On the cold floor of his shabby apartment,
On that sweaty night,
When power was never there.
I went to my flat in the morning,
I bid him goodbye by the evening train,
I never asked his name.
It was as if I had to know it later,
Not now.
Not today.
Not this week, month or year.
Just another age.
He never asked my name.
He must’ve felt the same.
For telepathy, never cheats.
Today, I wonder. I trip.
And I imagine him as all that I want,
For all that I know is his sweet puppy eyes,
And the ablaze heat that taught me that somewhere,
There lies a momentary passion bigger than me,
Inside me.
Waiting to burn, Roast and Shrink
My ego, my identity and myself!

He loves me with an innocence
So far behind his thirty years
That it should be a sin
To call us blasphemous
As many have.
It's in the way he breathes as he sleeps;
He is easy and fluent in his being.
I am at a loss for words tonight,
Though I speak to him as he rests.
He is as still as a coma patient
Yet somehow a smile creeps across his lips.
These are the wonderful things to me.

Every minute
Of every day
I trudge on to make it to this moment:
His heartbeat in my ear,
My hand on his rounded hip,
Love in our hearts.

i bought a pack of cigarettes tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
i sat on the stairs in the yard of the old house with its walls crumbling,
with its facade turned to dust.
the air was so cold it stung my fingers, frost licking my face,
turning my cheeks blood-red but nothing hurt
as much as you do.

i smoked a cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
the smoke filled me up and i feared
it would leak out of all the holes you punched in me.
it didn't. i choked and i coughed and it felt a little like drowning.
like your mouth on my mouth, like your teeth on my neck.
i choked and i coughed and it felt a little like you
so i liked it.
who cares i almost died.

i smoked a second cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
nicotine ran in my veins,
blue rivers along my pale skin and it felt, it really felt
a lot like love. a lot like you. a lot like us.
galaxies scattered across my skin, poison running in my blood,
yes, it felt a lot like us.
i didn't choke this time, but i think you would have laughed
at the way i ******
on the cigarette ****.

i smoked a third cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
i swallowed cancer like a drug and it stung
at the back of my throat, and it burned and it burned and it burned
as ash gathered at the burning end
and fell to the ground like snowflakes,
little flakes of ash on my sneakers
and it reminded me of your kisses a little, i didn't choke this time.
i laughed. a bitter laugh.
you hurt at the back of my mind as i put
the cigarette out and i thought about the way
you'd look at me, boldness in your eyes, hair a little all over
the place and your mouth
shaped in a little "o"
as you blew circles of smoke out.

i smoked a fourth cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
the cold stung but not as much as my lungs burnt and my brain burned
and you hurt.
i blew smoke out but never quite like you did,
and i thought it looked and was a little
ridiculous maybe
to burn the leaves of a plant wrapped in paper
and fill our fragile bodies with the exhausts
we breathe out smoke like broken steam engines,
ain't it funny, haha.
you'd laugh, harshly, you'd bite me, you were always
a little rough.

i smoked a fifth cigarette tonight, even though my lungs don't work quite right.
it's not half as venomous as you were, i decided.
i put it out.
cigarettes are so not worth the hype.
you were.
you are.

Time will come to pass,
My love.
And with it,
Our time will become limited.
I will be exposed,
As plain and unbridled as ever before.

However bleak and unstarred the night may seem,
I will always be able
To find my way back to you.

All my hopes and dreams are gone, nothing left in me to carry on.
My life is in a shambles and disarray I   guess this is the price that I must pay.
For all the wrongs that I had done and the pains I had put on some.
I lived my life the best that I could and if there were things
That I could change – then I would.
GOD had given us the gift of choice, yet we don’t hear our inner voice
Of when the feeling becomes very strong, and the voice tells us that it’s wrong.
Do we listen? Do we even care? When the voice tells us “don’t go there “
Many have gone through this the same as me
Look at their faces – can’t you see!
Their hopes and dreams are gone and they just have the memories to carry on.
© L . RAMS 120614

Silence strechted between us
Not a single word spoken
But I could hear his voice
A voice which once saved me
Saved me from the ruthless society
But no!
That voice wasn't the same now
It was filled, filled with rage
And there was my sign
The sign i had been waiting for
The sign to end our suffering
The sign to calm the sea of emotions
The sign of death..