How do you deny a girl...
A girl who plays the right tricks,
and knows how many licks
it takes to get to the center of what it is to feel like to be a
MAN.

Who knows and understands, how to make him think with his Man-hood.
And though he thought he never would,
she took before he answered
knowing he was never really going to say no....
who was going to know?

She teased and laid him down,
reminding him and showing him around;
the skin and flesh he's toured before,
and incase he's forgotten she'll show him some more.

Now the sun is up
and he's coming down,
his briefs hang low and that *** goddess;
with the golden glow...
she's asleep and now,
he knows the extent of his sin.
He has gone too far, and as she awakes he heads to the car.

Its over, its denial.
She's gone and she leaves tomorrow.
on the plane she'll take the memory far away.
      
There's a witness! There's a witness!
There's a witness to their crime
and within weeks of time it will turn her stomach;
make her ill,
make her run.
Now she hates the the sight of every mornings sun.
Every new day brought more movement and more sickness.

That call, one call.
What did she say?
Uttered some words but it all went gray.
All he saw was HER.
What he heard nearly deafened him, his crime is now expecting
and as though it was strictly divine his phone beeped 2 times
and his wife was on the other line.

No matter what I do, or who I am surrounded by,
I am still somewhat alone.
Alone in my mind, alone in my soul.

Solitude is not so bad.
It's when you are by your lonesome that you
can truly reflect.

You think about could haves
and should haves, regrets and mistakes. But you also
think back to your happiest days--the ones you forgot
to write about in your journal.

I walk down the empty sidewalks,hands deep in my
winter jacket's pockets, and sit
by myself at a park bench.

Yes, I am a lone flower who has yet to blossom.

mapped your cheekbones, delicate eyelids, tender lips with my dreams- all too desperate
inked my desires on your palms and thighs ,craving the touch of a lover in the midnight haze
painted acrylic on your ankles, rose trellis trailing to your toes,
its olive green leaves dotted with crystal clear dews-like breath of a fresh hope
sketched skyscrapers with yellow cabs at dawn, with light citrus sky burning bright like northern lights
slowly, softly kissing you in-between ,tracing our heartbeats with my lips
I was deserted like Nevada roads
cactus's and grainy sand clogging my veins
all too lonely without milestones engraved
then I met you, and that changed everything,
for you, my lover held my dreams and desires,
cupped in palms like a fragile yet determined dove
ready to fly, fixing its wings
you kissed my palm, and flew with me
to greater heights finally free

When you speak
Like broken glass
Makes me weak
Cuts me deep
When you creep
Up on me
Acting like you're lonely

Don't come to me
Crying all the time
You're so pretty
With your waterfall eyes
But I want none of it
I did at one time but
I just can't handle this ****
So if you'd be so kind
As to step back
Take the tape and rewind
To the way it was
Before we were we
Before the love buzz

So just please
Do me this
Move with ease
Up on out
I don't want
Your hopeless pout
I just need
You to let go

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

Bed sheets sing a morning tune.
Outside two house wrens
announce daybreak.  
Snuggling near her lover’s cheek,
she brushes a stale kiss across his ear.  

He is her husband.
She likes to think of him as her lover.  
She mouths a good morning
before asking
why don't men come on to me anymore?  

Silence hangs like a pall over the bed.
Balancing on her elbow,
she searches his face
awaiting an answer.   

The wrens repeat their greeting.  
He recasts her question   
thinking she needs support.
“You wonder why men don’t come on to you?  
Because you are loved dear,
because you are loved.”

"I hate flowers," she said, her mouth curling toward the ground.
What kind of a woman hates flowers?
"I love nature. I'm in love with nature. But the thought of a flower as a token of affection makes me sad."
"Oh," slipped out of my mouth, barely audible. "Well what would make you happy then?"
After a moments pause with her eyes on my shoes, she looked up and directly into my pupils she said: "A minute."
After another pause, she opened her mouth again; "Just a minute."
And so I squatted down right there in the hill, the carpet of never ending grass beneath us swaying lazily in rhythm with the invisible wind. I sat. She bent down and followed my lead.
And I gave her a minute. Many minutes that managed to blend into each other without my notice and before I knew it, it was dusk. The Sun peered out over the vast horizon, letting us both know that the time we had spent sitting silently had lapsed and appeared to us as no time time at all. It was just the grass, the sky, the wind, the Sun and us.

Oh meet me on the highway, baby
Where the Sun meets the ground
Oh see me in the subway, lover
When no one's around
Because there's no need to put up a fight
There's no need when everything will be alright

Listen to my words
Floating through space
From my mouth to your eardrums
It's an open and close case
It will all be as easy as apple pie
When you come with me
To the place where the dead never die
I promise, I'm most definitely certain
There's no doubt in my little mind
That when it's all done and they pull down the curtain
There's nothing we can't find