A crimson bloom upon her face,
Her lips were a promise, full of grace.
Cherry red, a tempting sight,
A beacon sweet, in gentle light.

A silent call, a whispered plea,
To taste the fruit, the mystery.
Desire stirs, a blush unseen,
In hopes of what might lie between.

Are words unspoken waiting there?
A secret shared, a love to share?
Cherry red, a kiss untold,
A story waiting to unfold.

My human conscience
will not allow me to go for eye for an
eye. Not proper to make a shrine.

Have you learnt to
live? Life is always struggleful. Go
greek. I will not give my pain to you.

You become possessive,
when you are empty handed and you
want now to hang from a mango tree.

Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013

The simplest form of
I love you is
I miss you…