The well of the cup,
Gripped by tired hands,
That mixes memories and regrets,
In its bottomless end.
Its still, brown reflection of eyes,
Bears a gentle acknowledgement,
To a tired soul.
washed out lies
surfacing when you realize
you're not where you belong
the picture came out wrong
just me in a stranger's sweater
thinking things won't ever get better
listening to that ocean sound
wanting to be lost and found
with the moon to my left and the sun to my right
i'll try and save myself tonight
I thought I knew you
That crooked smile I love most.
Doctor, who are you?
The world needs
a man like
(His real name)
I just wish
I had him
He could help me when I
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
I love the days it rains, when I feel the cool drips on my skin. I feel a life and then I know I can feel something, other they pain.
©2014 Copyright Michael Cross
— The End —