His hands speak louder
than his large black lips,
its ironic signing that gives him
a swift slick reflection,
like he’s grabbing you by the face
calling you baby I barely know you,
but you smoke faster than you click
and so if you just eye me steady,
id let you cry a thousand and one times faster than Jesus, baby listen,
you wrote my luxury when you walked in with that cherry smile
gleaming apple wishes in dimple mirrors – ****
I’m so glad there was never a split fragment between our lifelines,
crossing blue drapery like the high clothes hanging in ***** New York alley ways.
So you just realize everything brings color when you remind yourself,
you're young and if I could hear the sound of youth, I would
for the rest of my water-balloon life.