little people with big mouths and shriveled hearts
filled with excuses and pardons beneficial to themselves
pretending that the little game is just that: a game

forgetting about feelings and filled with fallacies
pieces are placed in their perfect position
strung along like stupid, sorrowful simpletons

experience is not something that can be fooled
anger is not something to be played with
apathy is something to fear

love is  patient and kind
love is also obstinate and persistent
it will not be misused or mistreated

true love is not an elementary concept
small minds simply cannot understand
naturally cling to games that only give empty satisfaction

time fell through bone fingers
as ashes do
when spilled

You say my name the way a bullet pronounces syllables in other people's mouths-passing through them on the way to profound exit into the air.
My
thoughts turn to you in the same afterwardly accompanying mess,knowing  
what has been
done.

My hungry lips started to talk
To her lips in language hungry,
And my tongue began to unlock
The well of  her language sundry
Necking her North African mounds;
Halting at her salving shell pink
To sip and sup her winy words,
And faint and wake and rise and sink
In the waking sleep of the tongues
Of her fire
To pen my un–Sufi desire
To die in the dunes of her body.

© LazharBouazzi, October 20,  2016

Eyes heavy with sleep,
limbs weighed down by something that could be called love -
It's been a couple of hours since we spoke and I'm a fool for missing you.

I really shouldn't get ahead of myself -
you're probably tucked into clean sheets and dreams that don't involve shaky hands and warm lips.

It's not about me, shouldn't be about what I want and what I need.

But I want you more than a little girl wants a night light in her room -
And I need you more than a budding flower needs rainwater in a dry season.

I hope you wake up soon and, without acknowledging what I've been asking for, give me anything you're willing to give.