I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

You could be an antidote,
a place to hide during the summer solstice,
a pair of closed eyelids during nightmares,

you could be the sweater I wore last Christmas,
a frozen hand to hold in the Sahara,
the smell of the ocean at six in the morning,

you could be the overture of a play,
a love seat in a nearby cafe,
the gradient of colours of a twilight,

you could be the sugar in my tea,
the sound of the pouring rain,
a poetry that lasted for ages,

you,
my gruff voiced wallflower,
this I want you to know;
some love seethed,
some stay placid for years.
some lost their spark,
some still felt like their first day.

but we both know love is a test of fidelity,
a voyage that knows no bound,
so take my hand,
take your paddle,
if you'll row with me until sundown,
let us see where the seas will take us.

She wanted to touch the thorns
and every living organism that would brought her to her knees,
subtle and dangerous; a gargantuan curiosity peaked and intervene;
affinity faded into something frivolous,
perspective flashing ruby before dawn broke.

she wanted risks,
and short-live melancholia for her far-fetched disappointment
when she found the magnolia had ceased to bloom
in an early spring,
and by Tuesday
she had forgotten her name purposefully,
a woman's folly always bound to be questioned anyhow.

'twas the beginning of her decadence, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five,
a withered English rose that lovers wouldn't infatuate,
nor they would let her stay at their den.
a stunner devoid of attention;
a story abound of illusion,
unmeasured;
but a gaze in her eyes,
I melt.

never had I seen a creature so free,
never had I seen a curve of smile preened,
and swathed with such glory.

free;
or so as I believe.

free.

Sugar cubes get drenched by the rain--
again.

Bedraggled but careless,
You continue to watch them
As if curios in the antique store on a trance lane.

Aggravation makes a chamber in your veins,
What shall the tea be served with?
An insect awake from its slumber watching you,
Pacing back and forth from grass to gravel
Be wary, I'd say--
Keep your wits up-close and within grasp!
You always had the finesse.

The guests won't come until noon, thus,
Go posthaste where they sell butter and Shanghai noodle,
I'll wait for you,
On the doorstep.
The cubes have melting away.