When offered the gift
of myself, I no longer
seek the return desk.

there he was
arriving on main street
carrying a backpack
and a suitcase

both stuffed with
papers

“WELCOME TO THE TOWN
OF FORGOTTEN POETS.”
said the shadows that
watched from the
windows
of nearby buildings

He didn’t like the
sound of their
voices

but he sighed
and dragged his
tired feet along

they were almost as
tired as his soul
and just as hurt

He'll have to live on the
streets,
for the town
was overpopulated

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

There were days
I remembered
To put my heart on my sleeve.

The other days
I hid it
So deep inside my body
I couldn’t find it for myself.

The terror of anyone finding
Me judging me
Seemed to linger in the air
I inhaled.

You made me crave for more
and left me hanging
on the bridge
when I expected you
to cross the half
of what you asked from me.

Is it still intimacy
or was I mistaken
from the start?

You have tricky eyes,
they lie.

Outside they look grey
but you have rainbows inside.