She's dark, yet
moonlight glows
inside her soft-eyes
& despite her
tragic-aura,
I still want
her blackness,
to taste her magic,
to kiss
the devil inside her.

On this night,
my heart forgot to stop loving you.

With star dusted verse and milky way melody,
I sang to you a jasmine scented lullaby.
Through crescent waves of moonbeam,
I breathed my lavender love into your dream.

In the morning when you wake, will you feel me there,
as sunlight, streaming through your sleep damp hair?


Mine is the heart that forgot to stop loving you.
Yours, the heart that could not remember to begin.

Plastic,
plastic covers my natural voice.

I am neoprene, with gasoline undertones.
So peel the layers, find my truth.

You never were one to find
beauty in modern art,

Acrylic man.

That hospital ward in 87
and you a young
3 year old
with an  infected leg.

You and I sitting
by the window
looking at the scene
and the trains going by
every now and then.

And the nurses
trying to get you
to take the medicine
and you fighting them off
and wiggling
and then after
they got it in your mouth
you let it drip out
of the side of your mouth
with that infamous smile.

That last time
in hospital in 2014,
with something more deadly,
the dark ward,
bed by the window,
you alone, adult now,
I saw you there,
huddled over,
puffed up,
seemingly neglected,
and I went
and rattled
the nurse's cage
about you
and the treatment
or lack of.

That last time we spoke,
mundane questions,
you ill, soft spoken,
fighting to breathe,
no infamous smile,
no last famous words,
just a reluctance
to say good bye
and leave.

Your hands were like summer

But your heart was pure winter