You are my personal taste of sorbet, sun-tan lotion, botched
slices of the sun that sit on my tongue like pills
before I swallow. I hate necessity, and crave your entity
in ice cream scoop sizes. I want to pull the batteries out of your back,
**** the juice onto my palette and spit it back into your eyes
so maybe you can feel the sting you left me with when you pushed
my heart off the side of the bed while pulling your pelvis closer to my head.
I hate when we’re cooking and you slide ice cubes down my shirt,
but did you know that’s the only time I ever felt anything
from you that wasn’t warm and bitter and bruised? I think
that sometimes your nightmares even scare me.
I can feel them when you sleep,
your arm flinching beneath my neck, how you curl
your toes against my calves and grind your teeth like you’re trying to fit
your square memories into the oval-shaped hole of my spine.
I get that that’s why you’re a little crooked, but you used me
to straighten yourself like the post a tomato plant wraps its stem around.
You took all the nutrients from my center and fed yourself.
You are the palm tree in my snow globe, but no matter
many times I shake you
the snow still falls on my shoulders.

Where lives are saved and lives are lost,
Transparent waves simmering and smoking,
Festering natives shouting 'bon voyage,'
Against the colossal empty carcass of stone.

We were alive, we were one.
Like you said in the sloppy mud,
The surreptitious metal clashing,
Screaming its choiring shout of affirmation.
The deity that strung us by the neck,
Forcing us to choke on our natural *****.

The door has closed.
Let it be heard in a whisper
In the evanescent air.
Like the pairing of two great crashing waves.

I remember that twilight tulip's lip,
The cupid's bow puckered earnestly yet forsaken.

And with our bodies braced
We raise the anchor,
Bearing our scopes far beyond the horizon.
A never ending sail in the wind.

Why am I doing this again
I ask myself as
I spend another night
Pouring myself on
Paper
Only to tear it apart
Hours later
Why am I doing this again
I ask myself as
I spend another weekend
Wrapped up in
Thoughts
Of what could have been
Only to open up
To the coldness outside
Why am I doing this again
I ask myself
As I hide behind
The idea of what will be
To forget what is
Why am I doing this again
I ask myself as
I let my soul drown
Into your eyes
Eyes as black as coal
Eyes as deep as an abyss
With no end
I let myself fall
And find all
The torn papers
And all the abandoned
Thoughts
And I know the answer
To my question
I keep doing what I do
Because all of it reminds me
of your eyes
All of it reminds me
of home
And I let myself
Get consumed by you

1547

Hope is a subtle Glutton—
He feeds upon the Fair—
And yet—inspected closely
What Abstinence is there—

His is the Halcyon Table—
That never seats but One—
And whatsoever is consumed
The same amount remain—

/
The small roads
Is constricted
I can't reach at your home at all
Can't accelerate my desire newly

Walking out of mind
In another way,
Lost Address
After passing such a long days
Can't remember anything
All those demands of time

How else is a way to get lost in transit
Forget the way back home
But what is there left to be
Without the knowledge of my mind
 
Day by day Sounds seem like a fairy tale
Get lost on the road to losing forever
You do not come anymore
Can't call in my old name

However, yet I smell your hair gets wet
See the flowers to be born again
Anywhere in Another spring
Again I dream with this nature

All I know is wrong
But what happened at the time, causes
Love lives between forehead wrinkle lines
Exists as a single grain of winter dew on the grass
/
@ Musfiq us shaleheen