She is making tea for her poet-husband.
Wondering what her husband is writing.
Once he wrote "Charm floats on her cheeks,
like a paper boat on the water.
Dipping and dancing."
Or maybe he is writing something ***** on her.
Like once he wrote -
"Between her thighs is the temple
where I belong."

She is making tea for her poet-husband
thinking he wants to impress her again.
She can hear his pen tapping his teeth.
But she can not see whisky on his table and
she can not see he is watching her sister
as he writes.

How drunk is drunk to me.
I hear men drink the sweat of their heart away.
I try it every night.
Spend my nights in bar till
I end up fist fighting.
Till my mouth fill with blood
more than whisky.
They won't **** me,
they love their lives.
But I won't stop till they run away.
As I walk back to my apartment
women look at me and frighten
like I'm an animal,
which I wish to be but-
When I reach my apartment,
I ask myself if I'm drunk enough.
And I would say myself,
try better tomorrow.

When I was a kid,
I had a labrador.
He was beaten, beaten his blood out of his face.
I wish I can help him.
But I was beaten too.
By my daddy,
sometimes by my mommy too.

I used to go to school
to escape the chaos in my house.
The school was worse.
They bullied me
throwing my water bottle away.
I was whipped for that.
For losing my water bottle.
The labrador used to stare at me,
he wishes he could help.
I went house
without pens, napkins,
torn notebooks,
sometimes torn uniforms too.
whipped, whipped, whipped
my childish pale flesh.

One day I walked to house
without a pencil eraser.
I was not sad.
I was not scared.
I got beaten a lot of times.
But-
I went house and saw
my labrador
dead.
I did not cry.
I accepted my quota of whips
and took a long walk outside.
I did not cry.

Leave the stars be flying,
by seeing your beauty,
they will be dying to stark.

Leave the bees wandering fruitless,
if they witness your sweetness,
they will be wondering thoughtless.

You are a flower dipped in dew.
He who made honeydew,
must have mad you.