We talk in emojis
21st century style you know
Our conversation wraps
A few moments past dawn

He reports every second on the gram
Almost as if that’s his beau
Before exchanging good morning texts
He says Insta Fam hello  

And when we do get intimate
It just doesn’t feel right  
He goes on to publish
She’s my Aphrodite

Oh I want to be teleported
To the age of billet doux
Just two love birds
On a hilltop with a great view

So on a fine Monday morning
I told him what I really want
He said it much like a warning
That the Stone Age is long gone.

They said I divested Saturn of his rings
and asked if he would dance with me.
He squeezed my fingers so heat lingered.
I knew he was told I'm a danger;
that I don't feel, that I don't kneel,
that I'm a terror, but that isn't fair.
Just say he can't make his own choices.
Say he can't control his impulses.
Why would I tempt a planet to ruin?
Why would I tempt a god to consuming
each breath before it disappears?
Confined him to my strong atmosphere.
Then call my heart weak as it beats in threes
how convenient, toes tap to odd melodies.
For my body's from Venus, how divine.
Yet I was a borne sinner, so keep me in line.
He said good evening as I said goodnight,
atoms were buzzing in the sunlight.
He grinned like I was a prize to be won
It was almost as bright as the starry sun.
So I lead him a bit further and took great care,
Saturn broke his orbit for an affair
and threw himself into the fire.
He was burning desire as I played the lyre.
Strum a gentle song for the end of love,
call me a heartless, winged-rat dove.
Say this is how I feel; this is who I am.
Say I sent an innocent to be ******.
Call me a fiend, a demon, a liar,
when I'm just a woman who played a lyre.

The bitter cold of Monday morn
Entices every bone within
And whilst the passing freeze forlorn
I'll shake a grin.

Minds wander of tomorrow's fate
With mouths wide open, eyes closed shut
My heart and head can't concentrate
Word's aren't enough.

Surrounded by a thousand stares
The child in me giggles contempt
I revel this secret affair
This smile shall tempt.

A seething red rage pulsates
like molten metal
through vains on the brink of bursting,
As if he guzzled a gallon of gasoline
and with a sick sick smile
swallowed a lit cigarette.

Still shrieking he strikes the floor.
White knuckled with fractured fists
shredded vocal chords,
crimson tears and cracked teeth
he's held upright only by spite
and a heart harbouring hate.

So as he stands
He scratches a single name
into a single bullet
and starts to shovel two graves
then prays for three lives
that are about to be forever shaken.

I've watched you countless nights and days.
Don't know your name but seen your face.
I've seen you cry and smile and laugh.
You are the One, my better half.

I know your likes your shoulds and wants.
Your musts, your wonts, your oughts and donts.
Your dreams and fears, your tears and hopes.
Your ups and downs, your slippy slopes.

I've heard you breathe, choke up and sigh.
Listed the things that make you cry.
I've watched you work, and rest and sleep.
I've felt your pain like bones deep.

To you I 'm not a that or this.
I won't be a thing you'll ever miss.
A mystery only is what I am.
For you I'm none I'm just a ****.

If You Come to San Miguel
by Michael R. Burch

If you come to San Miguel
before the orchids fall,
we might stroll through lengthening shadows
those deserted streets
where love first bloomed ...

You might buy the same cheap musk
from that mud-spattered stall
where with furtive eyes the vendor
watched his fragrant wares
perfume your ******* ...

Where lean men mend tattered nets,
disgruntled sea gulls chide;
we might find that cafetucho
where through grimy panes
sunset implodes ...

Where tall cranes spin canvassed loads,
the strange anhingas glide.
Green brine laps splintered moorings,
rusted iron chains grind,
weighed and anchored in the past,

held fast by luminescent tides ...
Should you come to San Miguel?
Let love decide.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Life & Times and Muddy River Poetry Review. Keywords/Tags: San Miguel, vacation, summer, love, affair, cafe, cafetucho, anhingas, cranes, sea, tides, bay, moorings, green, brine

The roses are blooming and cloying
The vase on the counter is new
I find it acutely annoying
That one of your rugs is askew.
I know from your eyes you’re enjoying
The very same wine I can’t stand.
I spend the entire night toying
With the ring sitting on my left hand.

You say, “Is there anything sweeter
Than kissing a lover goodbye?”
The creak of the puttering heater
Absolves me the need to reply.
You make a drunk toast to St. Peter,
To reaching his heavenly vault.
I wonder how badly you treat her;
I wonder how much is my fault.

The night has grown frigid and waning,
I stare out the windows and smoke.
You yawn and begin your complaining
On how she is running you broke.
Outside, it is sullen and raining,
I’m heavy with secrets I keep.
I know there’s no point in remaining.
When I leave, you’re already asleep.