To fill my cup up with
too much sugar
not enough coffee.
My eyes fill up with
salty tears

How is your heart?
It doesn't take
much to
touch mine.
With the spin of a knife
or the softness/ sternness
in a voice.

The run of a draw of smoke
from the cherry of my cigar.
It doesn't take much to make
me light one up-
way more
than I care
to
admit.


The sound of rain
thumping on the tin roof of
my deck.
There I'd sit and
read
and re read
his poetry
it didn't take much to-
keep the fire burning
it kept me going
when all seemed
hopeless.

While reading
I'd bite my nails
give a half
smirk smile
light
another
cigar
play
tug of war
with
poems
I'd pen
trying
my best
to express
my own
loneliness.
That
didn't take too much.

The heat
from your breath
against my neck.
Your firm grip
on my soft body.
Warm water
raining down
the *****
of my spine
making my hair
stick to
my back
and arms
   like I said it doesn't take much....

I may have
a stone cold
resting
***** face.
But
I have
a tendency
to get
upset
or pout
with as
quick as
the reply
of a message.

As I said
it doesn't take too
much
for tears
smoke
moans
memories
or to call
you a

******* ****.