A type to be
and the personification
of something I can understand

Look at me
I am your man,
breathing letters
into your hands.

A face that I could love
better than two doves leaving.

My face is a response,
alive and moving in your direction
to grab as passing wings flap.

No instruments of self destruction left,
a slight slander that is actually a blessing.

Could you receive me in perfect congress?

Maybe even with all the people
who don’t know any better…

Or when to just say yes.

With velvet tears
and dyes made out of leers
Who cares who hears?

Let's silence these fears
And learn to be...

And never not,
No more.