he's got strong hands and a fickle heart
she's been waiting for him to catch up
he was all look and no leap
until the salt soaked into his lips
and he fell in love with the
taste of language
and her hair grew out
past the knobby part of her shoulders
so he couldn't lean there anymore
but if you close your right eye
and then your left,
They were pretty much the same person.

Tonight,
I won’t write about love.
No, not tonight.
Tonight I will write
about the silent sky
and the moon,
that on his chest he holds.
I will write about this fog
that got my city strangled
just like a tight rope.
Tonight,
I will write about my garden
and the frozen flowers there
that show me that death
is a sight to behold.
Tonight,
I will write about life
and death
and how fast this fleeting life goes.

But, when I looked down
just like on every other night
tonight, I again,
on the spread page
“I miss you” wrote.*

Inspired by the great Pablo Neruda – “Tonight I can write the saddest lines”

And maybe that's my curse,
      I still trust people.
Instantly.

  From the moment we first met
      I trusted you.
Instantly.

  I get so impatient sometimes
      Waiting for what I give
Instantly.

  And I forget that for some,
      Trust isn't given
Instantly.

  But once I gain your trust
      The wait will be worth it.
Instantly.