I want to learn
to play your body
like an instrument.

When that is done,
I will play it
with wild trembling
fingers.

And when my fingers
touch your strings
you will make sounds
so wanton and sweet
even the angels
will blush.

  ~mce

Tanned bodies
Scorched faces
In the Pacific Sun
In search of a palm shade
A balm for our bodies

On a tandem
At 60-miles-an-hour
Against the Tropical cyclone
Whipping our faces
In search of a palm haven
A balm for our weary soul

Here we found
A shelter
In the times of El Nino and cyclone
A haven of rest
Safe and secure
Warm and filled
From the meat and juice
Of the coconut palm trees

we stargaze because we know the answers we need are not on earth

The little bit of time spent every morning, it was my treasure
when I think about the promises you made to me
You would come back

Rush out the door, onto another plane
The risk you took every time you woke up
You would come back

Stroke my hair, thought of me each time you were in the air
Grabbed my hand, kissed my lips, you said
You would come back

Thunderstorms, always I prayed, and hugged our picture frame
I felt you murmur, through all the noise
You would come back

The   only   promise   You   ever   broke

Because   You   didn't   come   back

What is there to tell,
when words cannot even transcend
beyond the ink-stained paper.
What is there to show,
when the windows to the soul
avert from the aesthetic wonders.
What is there to offer,
when sincerity and benevolence
meets the impervious mind.

Nothing.
because you chose to forget
when I promised to remember.