please do not look at me
so the butterflies in my stomach stop fluttering so achingly
please do not laugh with me
so your boyish grin does not find its way to my twilight dreams
please do not speak to me
so your winsome words are not all i hear in the summer daze
please do not care for me
so i do not believe you'll be there when i need someone in the dark of night
but instead,
please walk away from me
so i will get used to how it feels when you leave
please ignore me
so i forget the beautiful mind of yours that enthrals me
please be truthful to me, show me you don't care
so i know i am of no significance among the people in your life
please, break my heart already
so i have a reason to believe you will never be mine

i watched you dance
in the middle of the neon lit room
and as much as i loved you
i could not help but feel envious.
there was jealousy i could have sworn would **** me
jealousy for the way you could
move your body to the beats of youthfulness
jealousy for the way you could
smile and laugh with slightly drunken people
you didn't even know
jealousy for your confidence in the restless crowds
jealousy for the way you acted so carelessly on friday nights
the way i wish i could

i only feel alive in the subway.
it is the only place
(speeding, busy, noisy, beautiful in all its glory)
i feel some tinge of hope -
hopes that somehow
we could forget all that had happened
when we fell in love as most people do.
perhaps,
in some station, on any line,
you would happen to walk inside the train
and sit across me
and then we could fall in love again
the way strangers on trains do
fleeting, but at least painless.

some barber once told me
i was too fat for my own good
and little me was heartbroken
his harsh words weren't understood

because i was okay when i looked in the mirror
and mom and dad loved me so
but when the barber blabbed on and on
i knew the chubby arms and legs had to go

and so i felt bad for years
until one day i suddenly thought:
i don't even go to that barber's barber shop!
i don't need to worry about the things i'm not!

yesterdays are a day away
until more yesterdays arrive
and the old yesterdays go farther
and they turn to yesteryears
as new days come
and the first of yesterdays are all too far away
because time is a silly little thing
and we look forward to better days

on the steps of the notre dame
i lost my sense of color
every moonbeam through the
cracked walls of the House of God
danced around me like blue gypsies
performing a ritual upon
every ringlet of hair on my head

in the catacombs of paris
i lost my sense of touch
every skull feeling like silk
dead calcium caressing
the flesh beneath which
my bones were moving
alive and restless

beneath the arc de triomphe
i lost myself
the curve of stone caving in on me
like a Parisian Goliath
and I, a madman David
names of fallen soldiers
engraved upon the walls
breathed back to life
from dust they have returned
they reach into my cerebrum
their stone fingers pulsing
with the hymnals of war
to meet with the battle
of indigos and crimsons coursing
through every nerve of my anatomy

behind the eiffel tower
i lost my art
paris lights beating down
a beast sleeping through the
tides of eulogies and odes
its orphans have to offer

did you know your hair was golden in the sun?
you were the boy king, gentle as the summer air
you found me frail and useless, when i was nothing
yet you, in all your glory, made me something.

your name echoed through all the kingdoms of Greece,
you threatened yet were admired by the greatest of warriors
you roused lustful dreams in the most tender and innocent of nymphs
you were the mighty sentinel of the common stranger
yet you were mine to hold in the dark of night.

i still think about the way your leg dangled as your lyre lulled on,
your languid trails of kisses and starlit whispers
still haunt me the same way your unavoidable fate
crept upon you through your noble triumphs.

i have listened to your speeches like homilies of the faithful
i have memorized the creases on your face of fierceness
i have kissed your war wounds and cried for your pain
and i have read the greatest of legends in the lines of your body.

i could have sworn your battle cries
were as melodious as your lyre songs
and so beautiful they were
that i still hear you sing in the tides of the Aegean seas

you were destined for fame and wondrous glory
to be a story to be told for all time
to have people cheer your name and fall on their knees for you
loss was a feeling foreign to you,
yet the only thing you lost yourself to, in your pride, was love

who knew love could be such a terror?

golden haired triumphant prince
running swift and beautiful with the ocean breeze
nobody could ever catch up:
i had always thought you and i would live forever.