Eleven days since first night.
Seeing us together, you'd guess
As many years.

We compare scars from previous
Love; burns, cuts, disappointments.
Always sneaking a

Peek at the other, looking for
Signs we've promised our broken
Hearted yesterselves

To look out for. Both rather getting
Scratched right now than
Amputated tomorrow.

These are the blind days; the milk-
And-honey contrast to meat and
Potatoes.  

Grown up and grounded,
All we know is that we glitter, and
Test nuggets with sceptical teeth;

Hoping to God and whomever that
We're both plain good to
The other, and not just

Too to
Be
True.

"A poem written by a drunken poet
**** inebriated by beauty so rare
and thought his words would be
immortal but did lack coherence"
on seeing her for a while, he gathered
"This beauty sure has a raw appeal,
but needs someone, patient and deft
with  experience to polish and edit,
to bring out her true effulgence"

She was watching him keenly in silence
Are hearts capable of exchanging notes?
Her eyes shone as if she read his thoughts
"A rough stone, precious, am I,  found out
from a distant mine, no definite shape or
remarkable shine, no one tried ever to cut it
and chisel fine,  so that light 'll reflect from all faces
carets not clearly known, will you take it in your hands
and consider it as thine, lavish your love on it
and reveal the hidden beauty, that's ravishing
born out of sedimented carbon,soot laden on outer layer"
her eyes spoke to him in silence, and he smiled.

Clean off your slate, that messy desk is just a ruin of all your memories
Dust every corner of your room, make room for contemporary
Throw all your old toys in the garbage, they're just personality accessories
Destroy yourself if all means point to necessary

Talk to the conch before you throw it back into the sea
Or into that lake broken of glass bottles that gave you ****** feet
Dress yourself up, make yourself look neat
Only return to that lake if you want to see where your heart still beats
Strip your bed, clean your sheets
Forget those games in the corner they distract you from the elite

Travel into an empty cave, forget the friends you once knew
Trade out your old sneakers for some nice shoes
Forget the swing sets, and the bicycles, they're way past due
Forget the silly pop music, it's time you outgrew
Cast away that personality, trade it for a tie and a monochrome hue

Try on your high heels and your perfume
Lose some weight and your hostility too
Skewer you, skewer you into a new geometrical suit
You jump now, you're a frog now, not a newt
Learn how to love, learn how to reproduce
Learn about narcissism, try to pursue
Learn about love, try not to lose
Learn about depth, try to precept
Learn about religion, try faith too
Learn about yourself, try to hold on to that, it's more important than you ever knew
Become one of the many, one of the many of the few
Take everything out of that trash can, begin anew

I suppose you had me at "heeeey!",
But I'm still bouncing down the
Staircase of my own heart,  
One step at the time.

Your language is that of images.
Graphics. Oil on canvas. Interior
Design. Always knowing where
Something sits or hangs the most

Pleasing to the eye. I lean back with
Ink and infatuation, under only
Just enough light to write without
Being seen too clearly by keen eyes.

Two superheroes fighting the good
Fight. Saving days. Superpowered.
Telling the world how beautiful it is;
Mothering lovers loving like this.

If I run out of words, draw me another.
When your colours dry out, I will write
You of sunsets and stories,
Images and words go as hand in

Hand as our souls have since all eyes
Turned to the door through which
You floated, back straight, head
High, dotting the i

Of your beauty with a smile like a
Slap in the face of my well rehearsed
Image of 'calm and collected.'
Breaking the ice into crystals  

With one
Single
Word.   
"Heeeey!"

As if it's not
Enough that my
Mother liked her

At first sight;
My cat -who warms

Up to dogs and
Human strangers
In equal-

Just spent the
Night curled up

By her head. It's
Those huge
Little things

That make a
Man say thanks to

Such ordinary
Concepts as
Sunday,

Overcast and
*Morning.