Birds fly
In high formation
Above nations
Unknown to them

Cutting like a knife,
Sharp are your words of disdain.
I feel the nastalgic haze of my own nonchalant demeanor seep in through me like an acidic ooze.
There is nothing more than just my heart in the pit of my stomach.
I caress my cold shoulder, the way I imagine you would do.
But you do not see my signals,
This want, and need from you,
It is your touch my heart burns for...
But all I recieve in return is your neglect towards my urges,..
No burning hot touches to arose me,
No exploration of each others body.
Just this bed. And us in it.
When will she love me again?..
This distance in between us.

when you read squiggled words
that bleed onto jaundiced pages
you'll hear a shadow and not see
the face and form of this poet
else, you would have yourself
come before an audience and
opened mouth and wagged tongue
within your sight and hearing;
but no, you can't even trace faint
restless lines traversing this face
nor animated inflection of tone
none to aid but yourself
as you pick feigned words
therein a vineyard to gather
your basket brimming over
later press, juice, or ferment.
So drink your fill of orphaned vine,
touch inebriated awareness; and
perhaps thereby our meanderings meet.

You*
    May
       Say
          It
   And Feel
       It

**But I Don't

Just be honest, my love
I know why it is like this
The dull shine in your eye
The ash I taste in your kiss

I know who you are, love
Why we must be this way
Why the river flows so cold
Why the clouds cover the day

I found it in your heart, dear
The darkness that I now see
My heart is rotten, love
You are right, to run from me