A quiet storm
Has formed
Within me.
And you claim you want
Me to release
Everything that I
Hold beneath the surface
And it's ironic
You complain
When I let you simply sample
The breeze.

She hides her smile
behind black lipstick.
Her voice is low
and in between.
She smells of loneliness
and cigarettes.
She sings for me
when she is high.

She gets me higher
than I can go.
She takes me low
and in between.
Her heart's on fire
when she sings.
Her voice is smokey,
full of pain.

She sings of loneliness
and broken dreams.
Her dance is low
and in between.
She gets me high
and lets me down.
She kisses me
with black lipstick.

r ~ 4/29/14

He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.

if all i did wrong in this lifetime
was trust you,
you will send me to my grave happily.

He taught me to run
To disguise the most intimate parts of myself
To only love myself

You taught me to stay
To expose the most intimate parts of myself
To maybe love another

But now you and him are more similar than you know
Now I can stay
Now I can give the most intimate parts of myself
Now I can love another and myself

But it is not him,
And now it is not you
So now I say thank you and goodbye
Simultaneously

I was never afraid of sleeping alone in the cold night,
I was never afraid of having meals by myself,
I was never afraid of walking alone on a summer evening,
I was never afraid of not having someone to share my popcorn,

I was always alone,
But I never felt lonely,

Till the day my eyes met yours under the moon-lit sky.

Genuine like a child
Candid like an open book
Exotic like The Wild
Reassuring like a second look

my love is building a building
around you,a frail slippery
house,a strong fragile house
(beginning at the singular beginning

of your smile)a skilful uncouth
prison, a precise clumsy
prison(building thatandthis into Thus,
Around the reckless magic of your mouth)

my love is building a magic, a discrete
tower of magic and(as i guess)

when Farmer Death(whom fairies hate)shall

crumble the mouth-flower fleet
He’ll not my tower,
                        laborious, casual

where the surrounded smile
                                hangs

                                          breathless