It feels selfish to say
But I wish you would pick me
But my gut tells me you won't

I don't tell you this
I couldn't if I tried
Because I want you to be happy

And you're happy with her
So that's okay
I'm used to the sadness

I don't write this to make you feel guilty
I don't write this because I'm jealous
I write this because I care about you

In this alien world
We hug the warm air for comfort.
Hundreds of secrets slithering from our lips,
Through bed sheets,
making their way to dim skies
and settling as stars;
permanent fixtures of our past,
until sunrise.

In early morning hours,
With heavy lids,
We make mistakes.
Basking in our sweet calamity
as we cautiously pluck heart strings.

But after we wipe the sleep from our eyes,
The night’s intoxication forgotten,
We take our shaky legs back home
And turn to the winds for condolence.

as I sat writing
a sneaky twee wee breeze did slip
under my back door

A *kiss

tender but uninvited;

nothing more nothing less.

an exit.

two steps;

a question,

two steps;

an answer:

because I love you.

my searching eyes see nothing of yours

my ears just won't validate it

three steps

a question,

an answer:

very much.

an exit.

I don't get why your ****** eyes can't see
I don't get why your short frame can't grasp
I don't get why your semi-average mind can't understand
I don't get why it can't seep in your dark skin and chubby belly that

I  l o v e  y o u

because you care for your friends with utmost loyalty, sincerity
because your eyes shine with fire for the things and the ones you love
because you never run out of wild stories and theories
because your laugh is more than enough to make me laugh along
because your crazy ways take me in an adventure, not chaos definitely
because you would rather be odd in this apathetic world for the sake of chivalry
because you give me more innumerable insane reasons
but actually, simply
because you

You may see yourself as someone unlovable, detestable
but please get rid of that nonsense
because I am here
and very soon,
distance and time would get in the way but
I will always be here and

**I  l o v e  y o u

In the moments that are waiting, crisply, to break into floods of
daytime-issues of deadlines and ***** dishes,
something happens.
In the moments where procrastination is a smile and a fine lie nestled
tight between hope and reluctance
this will happen:
thoughts of warmth, glory and wisdom will flutter
through your spirit- rare beasts, jeweled fruit-flies
or candelabras
(silver)
waiting to be caught, just as long
as you
don't
get
down
to
work.

10 minutes left

you struggle to hold to you
hours of wonder, days of mirth
all felt that one September night, when the rice had warmed your belly
and softened your eyes

and the sky was kinder reflected in the city drains
because at that particular hour at hand, they were rivers of a foreign land
saturated with dreams and magics-transmuted by the rains.

6 minutes left

caught the last train
back
home waited behind a line of tired women without eyes
they were trees maybe
or rushes by the river whispering of a home before a
home before this one,
some ancient stony place of arches and  pools

i don't quite know
as the tracks beating under made them hard to hear.

4 minutes left- does thought really
cross at 'the speed of god'?
Such words from plays by beloved men haunt one at the strangest times.

Thus, inspiration once struck, dims.
Thus, the end of the page approaches.
"Thus." cruelly, super-ego laughs.

Thus, work begins.