Can I not take

A compliment

Without questioning

Whether he means it

Look into the mirror

See what his eyes believe

Sees me as it is

Red lips he wants to kiss.

Part I

No words need be spoken
Inhaling loudly,
She is mindful and content.
The only artifice here
A camera in her gear;
This instant in a frame
As wonders engulf her,
She claims.

I stand at the centre,
Swamped by
The tick of high heels and chatter.
Mindful and composed,
Left aghast
By the mass who walk past.
The right words come up
Binding my feelings to my art.

Part II**

Smell the air
Both dig inspiration
Elsewhere;

Differences
Of worldly proportions
Our nature
Do not fit by definition.

Entering each other's realm,
We love to understand.

May this gap
Be bridged with time
For I am afraid

We do not rhyme.

I find myself
Visualizing your glasses
When he removes his.

I imagine his crooked tooth
When I see yours
Impeccably aligned.

I learned a new word today,
Cafuné,
Translates
To the act of tenderly running one's finger through someone's hair.

I grew fond of the act
Long before
Getting hold of the word.

I know not whose I prefer
Now his I adore
But as much as I do yours.

This is a *******
Torn by emotions
We have history, we share chemistry
I love you
Though I love him too
Cannot think of him
Without thinking of you

This is a *******
I have come to loathe
But the truth is
I belong to both.

We meet for afternoon coffee
For this I reckon
I would fancy a waffle with it.

How are you?,
The first sentence of the last conversation about me and you.

While dipping a piece of my waffle
In the whipped cream
I did not order,
I have a thought.

We have never been
More than a side dish;
Like a waffle I would
Every so often ask for.

To sweeten this life
I require more.

I still prefer to take
My coffee black, as plain as my heart.

Excuse-me,
Was that offensive to you?
I was just pointing out
Something obvious.

Oh dear,
If it were clear
I am sorry to disappoint
It was so smart I missed your point.

I have drawn
The lines of your silhouette
My ring finger
Dark from smudging
The shadows behind your head;
I color it now
Where is that brown
Accurate enough
To capture the secrecy in your eyes,
That kind of green
That matches the shirt you wore
The one I tore that night?
Painting the memory of you
However, the colors I use
Mask your true colors,
My muse.
Because you are black and white
Your rainbows are shades of minimal
There is no space for red
Or opening up for my sake
But I see;
That is a happy face
Listening to the blues
Below the surface.
You are black and white
Would you like some colors, I ask.
Hand over on the brush,
Just say the word,
Let me be pastel in your world.