I'm a shoulder to lean on,
a hand to hold;
and I'll give you warmth
if ever you're cold.

I'll lend you an ear
any time you ask it.
When your arms are full
I will hand you my basket.

But would it be fine..
I mean, would you mind?
I may need help too,
been left and I'm blue.

The ante goes up.
So will you match it?
'Cause a shoulder is weak
with no socket to catch it.

Separate proudly.
You are an entity of your own.
Incomparable we all are.
For they are they and you are you.
For I am myself.
There is space;
tangible emptiness
that sustains our independence.
And with our bodies,
with our minds,
liberated and unique,
we move forth onto the paths which we forge..
carrying beautiful,
distinguishable quirks,
true to the individual.
We cannot be concerned
with where and how others step,
for our trail escapes us then.
And on our way await our gifts
and the places where we may leave ours in exchange.
Another's trail I shall not seek,
and shall not want to find.
For only one is mine.

Hair a dark cloud,
each strand silk...
not weaving,
softly stacked upon each other.
Just strands of silk
assembled in waves and wisps,
an airyness to the touch.

Lips like pillows,
pillows for mine
that spark brain waves
of a special kind
of sedation;
One that brings me to a state
of blissful tingle.

A voice;
a tune to my heart's beat
and lyrics that make it flutter.
A voice that paralyzes mine,
for my ears perk up
and my mind lies down
to hear your sweet sound...
forever ready for the next song.

A touch,
a cooled flame
that spreads a simmering warmth
and ignites radiance in my skin.
Ours melt slightly, delicately
together...
with this touch.

Eyes to match his locks.
Dark pools,
opaque mystique.
It's parts nearly indistinguishable.
Calling to curiosity,
baiting my desire.

Not to eliminate,
but to find stability
from an unlikely source,
our insecurities...
perhaps is the answer.

They are the ties to our balloons,
the dam to ego's flood.
They are the oxygen
to humanity's blood.
Be a vain breed we would
without them.

Tonight a ship set sail,
to no avail;
and there escaped a wail.
The sea of tears arose
as the cosmos chose.
Grief flows.

The switch is off
a fuse is blown;
though what should show
is an esteemed glow...
Where'd it go?
Hesitation.
A wire tripped.
A second guess
and then I slip.
My lips,
my tongue,
my voice shakes too;
then beget stares
like, "Who are you?"
"Nobody worthy"
comes to conclude.
And within mind's depths,
there conflict broods.
In darkness, gloom.