Give a man a pencil,
And he will draw from his mind,
Give a woman a pen,
And she will write from her heart

For the essence of a manhood lies within,
The height of the roof above his head
As the delight of his other rib,
From the warmth of the sun in a  snowfall

A balance of life
Once left and right,
Now right and left
Or simply, enjoying the centre

Who says he can't love the world?
And who dictates she can't rule the universe?
For a father grooms his little princess
And a mother sits on a King's counsel

How did this happen?
Defying the judgement of the old
A foundation of social rationality,
But now a house of idealism

Yes, the pursuit of something,
Something that is perfect,
To being complete of a kind,
To feel whole in a life lived

And that,
a freedom in happiness
To know the past,
And shine it's edges,
So as to glow, in the future

Doesn't she see the beauty of her youth in your curves?
The ripening ***** and bulging hips
Stretching out the folds of your silk wrappings
And a cotton weaving over your shoulders

A smooth skin, tender
Long hair, gold,
With a sunset smile,
And a gracious gaze

Of an angel,
By the fountain,
Trapped within your own reflection,
And wishing, you stay,  
Forever, young

How empty this feels?!
Stained,wallpapers, peeling,
Falling with sounds of fading memories

To let go of the good, but exceptional,
A past,
One step into her shadow

An old flame to be rekindled,
Denying fortunes of the future
The new yellow on a ****** candle

Scented, the breath of a rebirth,
A reincarnation, in spirit, for the heart,
To love, and  to be healed

An essence to be cherished
But lost in the smoke,
When the wind blows,
To steal the flame

Make me melt at the honesty of your heart
A sincere passion that is mutual
Echoing within the walls of our hearts
Pounding together in a wrestle of love,
Ecstasy, bonding our DNA,
When we lay in a bed of roses

My soul weary inside her rugs of flesh
Wrapping my decaying bones,
Dry of their marrow, drained,
With a fading taste,
Blurry eyes, a faint scent,
Silent to the surrounding,

The forgotten tune of a true sparrow
Where wishes linger in memories
Of how it used to be,
But hungry for the apple of youth,
Watching a love that drifted away
And the moving arms of a wall clock,
Before I rest in an eternal sleep

I could bleed all the ink from my pen,
As a fountain of my sorrows,  
Streaming endlessly from a shattered heart
Masked behind these dry, but weary tears

But, the length of my scroll,
Short of a new page,
Appeals for a new chapter,
That I return to its headers,
To write within my past,
The story of a new self

She hates the blankets of the night,
Hovering over the yellow of the sun
Into a boiling skin, sweating,
Soaking in a night gown,
Drowning in a pool of flooding terrors,
Flashing slates of memories

A dark alley, a subway,
Trailed by a hooded phantom
laying on her back, flimsy,
Chocking on her fading screams
In fright of the red mask,
The weight of his seed