What a fool Love makes of us...


and oh, how we let it.

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I sit to write what is to be my first novel,
and the cursor blinks at me.

I stare at the white screen as it glares back,
daring me to perform,
daring me to begin,
One strike against a key
one letter
one word..
a sentence perhaps,..
... a paragraph
or two...

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moments later
the cursor persists

determined
from deep within the white canvas screen..
Taunting me

Which of us is truly empty, it  implies..
You or I?

‘It is not the pain, but the hope, that hurts‘,
I insisted, thinking I was wise;
as he plucked two twinkling stars from the sky
and placed them in my eyes

My head upon his shoulder lain
he carried me to my resting hour,
climbing the tresses of Ferdowsi’s Rudāba
he freed me from the imprisoning tower

‘We’ve seen each other’s scars‘, he said
our imperfections seem so perfect’
As I gaze into his fathomless eyes
my heart, in soothing undulation, swept

Carried away on an emerald ocean
within the cadence of my wanting,
‘the deeper you dive, the less violent the waves‘,
I immerse, the current no longer daunting

First buds break through winter’s frost
ushering the blessed re-birth of spring,
his kiss, a flame, melts the ice in my soul
re-awakening my heart to blossoming.

I miss him
he was the poet in my poetry
the leaves of my poet tree;
and now this winter is so barren.

˜
I miss him
like the flowers miss the springtime
like the nightingale misses  its song;
and this silence is a deafening cacophony.

˜
I miss him
and I long to hear the nightingale sing
rather than recall it from memory..
before it becomes an unfamiliar fragrance
in my garden.

˜
I miss him.

Time and time again
life will prove to you how fragile and rare is Trust,
and how valuable when found.

It will prove to you
that many people will disappoint you
and hurt you;
and how important it is to hold on to those that don’t;
how important it is to hold on
to those who can taste your tears through the kisses,
and then kiss them away.

It will reveal to you
that there is nowhere to go to escape from heartache,
that it will hurt deeper and stronger each time;
even though, each time,
you thought you had mastered the pain.
But pain is not meant to be mastered
— it is meant to conquer ‘you’,
--- it is meant to reveal you.

Life will manifest to you
that heartbreak is a lesson we must learn,
and that its only teachers are those we have loved.

It will show you
that sometimes
it takes a smack in the face with a boulder
to finally see things as they truly are;
and we realize we can lie to ourselves for only so long.

Life will prove to you
that sadness is only one of two wings;
and that we need both wings to fly.

That at the end,
and in the end,
there is only God and you…

…and that is sufficient.

Reluctant traveler on a dusty road
on a path not of his choosing..
As he struggles with his load,
he wonders what he is losing.

Feet blistered from the harrowing walk
face weathered from the sun
his hands, they bleed
his throat is parched,
yet water does little for the need.

He convinces himself it is for the best
And accepts it in his mind.
But his heart is hesitant to catch up to his head
afraid there, of what it might find.

Reluctant traveler on the choppy seas
distance has not been smooth sailing..
His conflicted soul he tries to appease,
and he wonders if he is failing.

Steadily he moves, still looking back to the shore
of the ocean inside his mind.
Meanwhile, waiting at his horizon’s door,
is what he had prayed to find.

She waits for him inside his eyes
so deep he cannot see her
behind the lens where truth resides,
she waits for him to free her.

But on his boat he drifts along
carried by the current’s roll,
still looking back, he misses the beacon song
from the lighthouse of her soul.

And so she waits
resting deep,
deep within the ocean of his eyes.
As off he drifts,
drifts to sleep
while the emerald currents reflect the skies.

Their paths, though seemingly guided
may never come parallel;
And kismet conspired with the stars and collided
but only time can tell…

She was holding on to a man broken
every gesture made, every word spoken
was a desperate cry from a place so deep
that he can only reach it in his sleep

she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away
keeping her balance as he kneels to pray
sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t
sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present

she implored, she beseeched
she tried action, she tried speech
‘if you cannot love me, let me know
if you will not love me, let me go’

But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life
as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife
as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat
as if she was every single word he ever wrote

and his eye remains to the shore -
someplace clear but far
it seems within reach yet
more distant than a star

more and more it appears an exercise in futility
finally admitting it is beyond her ability
she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master
trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster

the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear
hope only comes in the form of a prayer
with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved
but try as she might, she cannot rise above it

despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored
her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword
would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void?
would her heart remember the previously enjoyed?

♦

~ epilogue:

Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing
she heard a voice that only an angel can bring
somewhere between a sigh and a scream
somewhere within  a half-awakened dream

She watched him float above the ocean waves
his  feathered wings skimming the waters surface
catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms
a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise

From the edge of clouds,  he finally spoke
and his words became a poem
singing sweetly behind smiling eyes
gliding together over the ocean foam

Outside,
the snow is serenely falling
its illuminated resplendence
vying with that of the full moon
suspended in the silent night sky.

Inside,
it is just as silent
the only sounds the occasional spark and crackle
of the logs in the fireplace.
And two hearts harmoniously beating.
Wisps of smoke coyly rise from the sandalwood incense
gracefully whirling in the air like dervishes,
the room redolent with the fragrance of serenity

As I repose on the couch,
your head upon my lap,
you hold one hand against your rhythmically beating heart;
while with the other
I absently play with your hair.

There are no thoughts,
only heart thinking.
There is no speech,
only heart speaking.
There are no words,
only heart spilling.
~
You slowly rise from my lap and look through my eyes
and into my soul.
When I come to speak,
you gently place a loving finger against my lips,
whispering
“shhh“

Time revolves all around us,
yet within us — stillness;
the silence palpable.
Our souls become one
with the other,
with the tranquility of the night,
with the gently falling snow.

Our breathing falls in sync to a rhythm known only to the cosmos.
At the end of our inhales,
there you are.
there I am.

And then you speak..
three words..
Three words that contain the universe within them:
“This is bliss“

"When you go out seeking love,
you find broken people seeking love.
   But when you go out seeking Life,
   you become whole and encounter whole people living life…
   … then Love will find you." ~ skyblueandblack

"Seeking love is like chasing the setting sun around the earth,
pleading for it to rise again.
   Be still, orbit yourself,
   and you become the east and the west…
   … then Love becomes your Axis." ~ phosphorimental

It was a quiet afternoon of reminiscing
Nostalgia lingered in the sunlit air
intermingling with the sweet aroma of coffee
as I sipped and leaned back in my chair

˜
He walked up to me as I sat by the window
I waited to see what he wanted to say
“Your skin is the color of my mocha’, he smiled.
‘Just a notch deeper than your café au lait.’

°
With his jet black hair and Mediterranean eyes
And a physique worthy of a prize winning stallion
His confident air and his subtle smirk
He had to be greek, or maybe a charming Italian

˜
Long hair in a messy bun that didn’t care
jeans ripped in strategic places
His gaze never left my quizzical eyes
obscuring everyone else’s faces

°
He waited for me to respond
mere seconds since his saunter
Forever engraving in my mind,
This coffee shop encounter…

He casts his fishing lines into the water and waits patiently
.. what shall be the catch for tonight?
He needs something to breathe life back into himself; get his creative juices flowing again.

This is what feeds the Artist after all.
He does not need food or water;
he needs inspiration.
Good, bad, ugly.. it matters not.
It must be something- someone-
that affects him intensely,
that reaches deep down beyond his self-imposed armour,
and grabs at his soul.
He needs to devour in order to survive.

It is not long before one bites, and then another.. and maybe another.
He gently coaxes, drawing them in with his seductive lures.
He knows this art well.. knows what to say, what to do, who to be.. or not be..

He examines.. tests them..
… a little subtlety here.. more boldness there,
     …… but tempered,
                with a laugh,
                a smile,
                  a chuckle,
                    a wink.

He doesn’t quite want to scare them away,  but he wants to see how far he can go.
What boundaries can he safely breach..?
He pushes, he pulls..
He engages, he retreats..
He shares, he takes..
He tugs, he releases…
     … and the dance continues until his search is satisfied.

And then when he has determined which shall be his catch for the night,
which of these waltz partners is most ready to be broken – open-
he gently releases the others back into the waters…
gently Discarded.

Perhaps they will be led back to his watering hole another day,
and perhaps they will be the ‘one’ at that future time —
or perhaps they will never be seen or heard from again.

It does not matter.

What matters is Now.
What matters!
         is what it takes to feed his desire.
What matters is this moment.
Everything is in this one moment.

This is practice after all.. one must practice in order to perfect the technique.
One must perfect the technique if he wishes to be claimed and devoured by Bliss.
And who does not wish to be devoured by Bliss?

“Enjoy the practice, perfect the technique”.

he says.

Why is it so hard to find and keep love?
And why is the pain of the heart so much worse than the pain of the body?
And why does it seem that a death is more bearable than accepting that someone left you -
because in death they had no choice.

You walk away from each other with so many memories not yet created;
so much remaining unsaid,
so many dreams unshared,
because suddenly it doesn’t seem safe to share.
One moment that person is the closest soul to you;
and the next moment,
before even a full breath is taken,
that person is almost a stranger.

And the unsaid words consume you.

wanting to ask: if you love me,
why did you leave me?
wanting to tell you how much I miss you,
but knowing that I shouldn’t.
wanting to ask you to re-consider,
but knowing that I wouldn’t.

Thoughts dominate your every waking moment;
you sleep less yet you cannot stand being awake
because the pain is too much.
You try to occupy your mind with other things, other people – movies, reading, work, travel -
but nothing else exists.
A phantom of you carries you on with life, a shell gliding through the motions;
performing,
smiling in response to a smile,
laughing on cue…
When all you want is be away from it all,
lulled in the cocoon of your own thoughts,
wrapped in the blanket of the dark recesses of a place where you can finally break down,
surprised to find that sometimes the healing is worse than the break.

But fighting it takes too much effort,
Strangely, you find peace in giving in to the pain.
Because beneath the facade,
your soul is dissecting every word previously said.
His words run like a coiled fuse
across your mind and around your heart:
“I can’t believe you’re mine“.

Behind the mirror of your eyes you are replaying every encounter;
trying so desperately to understand why;
wondering if you said something wrong,
did something wrong..
if maybe you had done things differently…
trying to make sense of what can never make sense.
needing answers you know you will never get.
You go through so many emotions,
so many conflicting feelings..
torn between anger and pain,
confusion and denial,
love and hate,
blame and understanding -

wanting to forget and wanting to hold on to the memories..
wanting to delete those pictures and wanting to save them forever.
and the cycle repeats.
.. and repeats..

Every moment, every memory, becomes so much clearer,
so much sharper -
like a razor blade in your mind;
more deeply engraved into the psyche of your soul.

And the reminders are everywhere..
because he was a part of your life, every part
and you thought it was forever.

You try so hard to forget..
But it ended too soon, and seems so senseless
like throwing away a bouquet of flowers before it even begins to wilt.

You tell yourself that people are who they are.
We cannot change them or ask them to want or be something they don’t want.
That no matter what they do to us, we have to accept that they are on their own personal journey.
And it is their right to seek their path as they see fit.

Perhaps that is how we grow, how we learn.
Perhaps their purpose in our life was simply to light that spark– and the rest is up to us.
Perhaps the purpose of Love is to always seek it, sometimes find it..
but never keep it.
perhaps Love is not ours for the keeping..

Your friends try to be there for you,
Offering an understanding ear to unburden your soul,
but your soul wants to hold on to its burden.
Offering a shoulder to cry on,
but no shoulder has enough strength for the load you carry.
Offering arms to embrace you,
but no arms will suffice when the only arms you want to fall into are those of the one who left you.
Offering sympathetic words that only serve to bring forth more of the tears you’re trying so hard to keep at bay..
You cannot risk letting anyone into the fragile sanctum of your Being as the wound is still precariously tender,
and the slightest quiver may open up floodgates you feel may never close again.

But Time passes by,
slowly but inevitably.
And, mercifully, the pain lessens a little each time you sleep and awaken.
The days alone become tolerable,
The nights that were once filled with loneliness become tranquil in solitude.
The once constant agony becomes the occasional twinge
when you smell a certain scent,
when you pass by the restaurant where you once shared a booth and enjoyed a meal,
when you see a happy couple holding hands as they walk by,
when you pass the place he first asked to hold your hand, and you shared your first kiss,
when you see the commercial for the television show you used to watch together that you can not bear to watch again
when you see a mildly familiar silhouette,
or in the hint of a smile that is almost like the one you remember,
or in the intense gaze of a passing stranger that is reminiscent of the one that haunts your dreams.

…and you can finally smile though the tears because the memories,
while once only painful -
are now painfully beautiful.

The pain passes but the beauty remains..

..and one day you realize you no longer count your growth in years,
but in the number of times your heart had been broken,
then scarred and healed again ~
like the growth rings of a tree,
growing stronger in the process.

Collapse into the arms of destiny
Let them carry you wherever the wind blows

Do not resist, be pliant
Like the reed that sways

Trust that you will be guided
To that which is in season to your soul

Love speaks with one voice
Sometimes through the parting of different lips

Know that the displacement and nostalgia you feel
is but a memory and a foretelling of Home

Relief comes with surrender
The leaf knows this secret
it yields in acquiescence.
Take a moment and contemplate
the life of a leaf ~

Surrender is not defeat,
it traverses land far and wide
and arrives gently to its destination

Surrender is not weakness,
know your strength.
Your essence can move mountains

Transcend into a fragrance that casts its spell into the night
unbeknownst to the beholder from whence it comes

In your surrender is beauty
that draws you closer to the ultimate Beauty
and culminates in the ultimate Love

Love him, love her, and let your love permeate
like the scent of two roses, together in bloom

♥

Our fingers intertwined,
our souls re-joined,
our hearts spanned distance and time ~
Reminders of encounters in lives long past,
when we dwelled in the presence of the Divine.

♦

I thought of days of sadness
… of endless, sleepless nights,
of futile attempts at climbing..
but plummeting from towering heights.

♦

With his gentle strength, he held me,
as I laid my appeased soul against him..
My burdens released, finally at peace
I felt my spirit flow within him

♦

I closed my eyes,
and I wept..
.. and I wept ~
as walls of resistance came crumbling down

And in serene tranquility,
I slept..
..and I slept ~
in the middle of his ocean I gently drowned.

...

I haven't written a poem in so long...

it seems words are useless now...

but something is still missing...

... the void gets wider, deeper.. darker

in between the silent dots of the ellipsis...

and I wonder~

will the silence speak for me...

...

There are as many ways to love
as there are people in this world,
and just as many ways to say
'I love you';

But there is only one way
to be in love -
only one way
to be true.

'The world needs more hand-written love letters
and people holding hands,
and  each other...'

'The world needs unwakeable dreamers
peering over their lip-mounted café au laits,
inhaling the nostalgia of quivering edge-curled
pre-autumn leaves....'

the love
is leaking out
thru the cracks
of a heart
broken once
too many times
...

Within this solitude,
I have grown in ways I never knew possible.
I have delved deeper into the caverns
of each chamber
of this sacred abode
we call the Heart,
and discovered there is no end..
It is a perpetually incessant journey.

I continue to swim,
propelled through this bloodstream, ~ this heart’s dream..
my tears becoming one with the ocean
within the vessel that carries me forth.

Guided by a gentle hand, the inward immersion continues..
It is dark.. warm..
it envelopes me.
I cannot see .. rather I feel,
moving by the sight of faith.

There is safety in this sanctuary,
the guiding hand a cord,
the darkness a soothing, protective womb.
I inhale deeply –
as I hear the voice whisper:
everything is allegory
      pain is a sculptor (it keeps us upright)
         love is a painter (his brush divinely guided)
            lust is a cello… (but what good is an instrument without a song to sing?)
and I am ecstatically transported to Tagore:
“I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument
while the song I came to sing remains unsung.”

I exhale cathartically –
Releasing..

It seems an eternity between the inhale ~ and the exhale..
a lifetime between each breath.

She dusted you off her shoulder
something she noticed out of the corner of her eye,
a nuisance flake that looked like a blurried boulder,
brushed off without so much as a goodbye.

but love remains..

He sends you a text message
or calls you on the phone;
his promises were a hollow pledge,
he hangs up, and you’re alone.

but Love remains..


You feel your spirit start to wither
and you realize you must forgive her.
You feel your soul dying from within
and you realize you must forgive him.

And Love remains
even when he leaves,
that’s how you can love again.
Love remains
even after she leaves,
that’s why you can love again

He gave you his heart
tied with a pretty bow,
you opened it and found a box of pain.
She gave you her heart
delicately placed in folds of silk and satin,
you opened it and found a box of rain.


Yet Love remains
even when he leaves
that’s how you can love again.
Love remains
even after she leaves
that’s why you can love again

Deep within all the pain,
time passes..
and Love remains.

We sit in the same room, the same car, the same bed
mere inches apart, yet the distance feels insurmountable..
We sit in silence, each lost in our own thoughts,
but it is so loud in my mind.
My thoughts are screaming out to you.. wishing you could hear them.
I slowly let my eyes drift in your direction.. you are miles away,
no where near where my thoughts can reach you.
I wonder where you are,
and where you wish to be.

Foolishly, I try to make you love me.
Foolishly, waiting for you to love me,
thinking time will bring you to me;
thinking if I just try this.. or that..
But sometimes we try too hard.

We sit staring into each others eyes,
but we are looking through each other.
You – looking to where you wish to be;
I –  trying to see where you are,
trying to figure out when it was that the light in your eyes dimmed,
when the flame died.
Seems it died too soon.

I miss the times you would gaze into me,
and see me.
When I saw the passion in your eyes,
when I felt your words tear into my soul,
when you spoke to me
in whispers
so only I could hear.

I heard his voice before he spake
clear as day, there was no mistake
He said,
“I will carry you
from the shore to the sea,
lulled in forgiving waters
as you have carried me.”

“You can only love as much
as you are willing to be hurt~
the capacity of the heart is immense;
But no one knows
from where it comes, or whence
or how much farther it goes.”

“Many pretend to be in love
because they fear being alone
but the heart cannot be fooled
and deceptions, it will not condone.”

I sat beneath that twilight sky
and reveled in its majesty,
the breeze playing with my hair
my face kissed by the sea salt scent in the air.

I closed my eyes in restful repose,
as he continued in his speaking:
“Love does not seek our permission, he said.
whether in it’s coming or it’s leaving.”

“So rejoice in its company
Let not your fears control your mind,
what is meant for you will always be yours,
what is not, will take its course~
the hands of time cannot rewind.”

The sun made its final descent for the night
and silence once again ensued
But the voice stayed with me as my guiding light
and with stillness, my soul it imbued.

I was breathing in the beauty of  Scala dei Turchi,
as I sat atop pure white marlstone crescendo,
etched by the winds and the rains of time;
the view emphatically embracing the coast of Agrigento.

‘Twas along those balbutient banks of the Mediterranean sea
I saw him silently standing there,
his hands resting in white linen pockets,
the salt wind blowing through his peppery hair.
Serenely somber in quiescent stillness,
he was dashingly debonair,
his form earnestly beseeching, a wish
delicately wrapped in the guise of a prayer.

He peeled his stare away from crystal waters clear,
I was transfixed by eyes that gallantly gazed at  me;
eyes that emerged from pools of a deep sorrow,
eyes as transparent as the turquoise blue sea.

Deftly ascending those limestone cliffs,
he was reminiscent of Saracen pirates penetrating;
with such determination of gait and surety of purpose,
he approached me with palpable power emanating.

His drawing near sent my heart swiftly a-pounding,
a halo of light behind his sun-kissed face –
I imagined I saw a  shadowed smile emerge
as he nonchalantly quickened his pace.

He took his place beside me
atop the pure white marlstone crescendo;
and we waited for the sun to descend,
against the skies of beautiful Agrigento.

I asked my mind
why it is
you I’ve come to love
A hundred reasons given me
and still was not enough

So I asked
why it is
I fell in love with you
Knowing there’s a difference
between these questions two

My mind took pause, I shook my head,
there was no answer, none
Then revealed my heart, *“beloved
‘Why it is,’ tis enough, that
I need not count past One.”

There was so much I did not say when you said goodbye
Now I wonder if I did, what would have been your reply

I did not tell you that your leaving
was a catastrophe buried in grieving

like the avalanche leaving the mountain *****
destroying all flicker of hope.

I did not tell you of the heart that you ripped asunder,
leaving it to drown in a sea of its own blood,
or of the soul you left in silent wonder
like the silent destruction after the flood.

I did not tell you that I saw an ocean in your eyes,
and that every time you spoke I felt your spirit rise.

I did not tell you of the graceful gait with which you moved about,
and the confidence and assurance that left me with no doubt.

I did not tell you and I never will, some words are to remain unspoken,
but every word I said to you was a promise that remains unbroken.

I did not tell you that I did not know who I was without you,
that every word you spoke was truth and I could never doubt you.

I did not tell you that even now the wind still carries your name,
and every flood of tears I swam through could never **** the flame.

I did not tell you how your arms engulfed me, how much your love surrounds me.
How your mere touch could heal my soul, will forever astound me.

When the one that you love
is in love with another,
its like chasing the rain
while running for cover.

Like bridging the distance
between east and west,
knowing its still farther
from your head to your chest.

You run and you run
yet remain where you started;
but the sages have warned,
love is not for the faint hearted.

Love asks no permission
whether coming or going,
be it to stay or pass through,
like an ephemeral wind blowing.

Like a welcoming farewell,
the mixed message from your lover;
when the one that you love
is in love with another.

Did you hear the one about the girl
Who fell in love with a boy who was in love with the world

In transience his passions  reside
They come and they go with the swing of the tide

A sun reflecting one side of the moon
He waxes and wanes and leaves too soon

No face and no name
It matters not, they’re all the same

If only he would linger
but he possesses a poet’s finger

He cannot stay, he seeks inspiration
Seeking sustenance from other’s adulation

I used to dream in you,
swim in the sweetness dripping from your lips,
drown in its foaming effervescence.
Your heart was an open ocean in which I could drift,
cradled and fearless.
seeking adventure;
a voyager hungry for new discoveries.
Your open soul was as expansive as universes
holding all the stars and suns and milky ways and moons.. and constellations.

Your words fell as gentle as falling snow
and melted deep into the crevices
and recesses of my mind,
a light that found every corner of darkness
and illuminated it,
stretching it beyond any capacity it had ever known.

I used to dream of you
of your giving spirit,
before it became as barren as the desert floor..
offering only mirages..
teasing like merciless vultures
feeding on the carrion of my desperate heart.

You stole my dreams of you,
a highwayman riding his horse of delusion;
wearing the garb of Lancelot
and the image of Dorian Gray.
You rode in from the sunset
haloed by a crimson dust,
bearing your concealed sword..

.. a sword that pierced the dreams of you,
pierced the golden sun to its core;
its light dimming and fading until it was no more.
and the air was filled with a gray, hot wind;
an inferno bearing through,
and carrying the putrid scent of confusion.

I used to dream.

I can no longer bear
to look into your lying eyes;
there is such  deep sadness
when love dies

I can no longer bear
to be held in your cheating arms;
the beautiful hands that once held mine
have lost all their charm

I can no longer bear
to hold a place in your misleading heart;
my heart once held you in such high graces
but you pierced it with a fickle dart

I gave you all I had
and I suffered all the pain;
You took it all for granted
It was all for your gain

All this time you deceived me,
letting you was my mistake.
And somehow I forgive you,
for my own sake

Now when I say my final goodbye
suddenly you want to apologize;
you want to be my ‘everything’
but I no longer choose to agonize..

..over you.

a writer writes,
to ameliorate the pain
be it holy or profane
be it balanced or insane
with affection or disdain

Every word written wipes away a tear
every line, refuge from fear
a sort of self medication
a self reparation
a hopeful initiation
from a hopeless situation

every couplet,
a bleeding wound healed
every stanza,
a memory sealed

a writer writes,
to begin again
to leave behind the pain
a release from a binding chain
and that familiar refrain
in vain..

and so the writer writes..
Again..
    and Again..

You are the captain of this vessel;
where you steer it, it will go.
You see, I have already fallen in love with you..
from the moment it launched from the slip.
And as all of everyone clearly knows,
the one who loves the least
controls the Relationship.

You control the sails and the winds,
you are the compass needle.
So sail me out to the open sea
with its salty ocean air.
And if you don’t care
to stay with me,
then simply leave me there.

I’ll find my way by beacon star
and drift towards the moon;
I’ll brace my soul for choppy seas
and weather every storm;
I’ll mourn you when you leave too soon,
and leave me so forlorn.

In dreams
he loves me ~
he looks at me with those seductive eyes
that take me on flights along emerald skies

In dreams
he touches me
and I melt with desire
his hands and his kisses light me on fire

In dreams
he takes me
on trips to France and Italy ~
we dance the night away and
dine on the finest cuisines,
sipping champagne
in chauffeured limousines

Then I awaken…
…and have to get ready for work.

Does he not realize
That he dies in front of my eyes
Every time he lies..?

He may as well wield a knife
And take his own life

For it is not the sword
But the deceitful word

That cuts the jugular and the femoral
in preparation for his funeral..

It is a permanent stain
His apology is in vain

For there is no return from verbal death
After he’s uttered his last lying breath.

What did these hands do before they held your hand..
They must have been resting idly;
waiting for that perfect fit, the perfect span
that leaves my heart beating wildly.

What did these lips do before they got lost in your lips..
They must have remained sealed, and grim;
waiting for you to drink my soul in measured sips,
from a chalice eternally filled to the brim.

What did these eyes do before they beheld your eyes..
They must have gazed into total darkness;
waiting for a light from emerald skies,
to obliterate the utter starkness.

What did my mornings consist of
before I woke up next to you..
your tousled hair and your dreamy eyes,
your arms around me,
my legs between your steel-hard thighs.

What did my time consist of
before I spent it in your presence..
For now ~ during the times you are away,
I linger in your essence.

You weave your stories like the night,
stringing the moon with the stars;
the finest of pristine pearls,
threaded by twilight.

Weaving the finest Varanasi silk
with life as your celestial loom;
laying down gold- and silver-threaded brocade,
dormant gardens burst in bloom.

Your pen is the philosopher’s stone
turning lead hearts into gold;
manipulating structure in stunning stanzas,
inscribing on hearts in italics and bold.

Nodding in acquiescence
the sages of the ages,
will then add your magnum opus
to their papyraceous pages.