my vocabulary is not small
nor my imagination weak
but every time you seem to call
I find no words to speak

She controls her laughter,
lets it slip from the edge of her mouth,
the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly,
then, she makes a sound,
seamlessly, her fingers graze my thighs,
smoothly, her eyes meet mine,
and in her eyes, I see my reflection—
aflame, abashed, and fiery,

She is the answer I’ve scoured the world for,
and yet, she, herself, remains a mystery,

Ah, I see,
She controls her laughter
as easily as she controls me.

He was never a part of this world,
not really, but rather like an extraterrestrial
from another dimension

A silent observer
with a pen between his fingers, watching
and making notes of untied shoelaces

He used to write rhymes about
the wonders of life, isolated in his bohemian
house and a tiny window his only reminder
of the existing reality

He was never a part of this world,
not really, but the odd bird chose to come out
of that door, eventually

I guess I won that stupid fight of "I love you more."