I was reluctant
To fall in love
I was reluctant
To be
Loved.

But your name is
Embroidered onto my heart
With thread made from vines
And a sewing needle made from stars.

Flower petals rain down in place of
The blood that seeps from the wounds
That I created myself.

Breathe in,
1, 2, 3.
Breathe out,
1, 2, 3, 4.

I was reluctant
To fall in love.
I was reluctant
To let myself
Be loved.

Your voice is etched in stars,
Glowing and gleaming lighter and lighter blues and golds.
It's carved into my heart,
Stitched right here
Into my soul,
With a needle made from brambles,
And thread made from constellations,
They sew me back together,
They stitch me whole.

Pixie dust scatters in the wind
In place of all the blood that should be dripping
From whatever wounds
May be.

Breath in,
1, 2, 3.
Breathe out,
1, 2, 3, 4.

I am reluctant to let you in,
But I'm letting you in,
And it's gonna hurt because I'm scared,
But it's alright, I know it's alright,
From the way you hold me at night,
To the way you hold my hand.

Your name is etched, stitched onto my heart
With thread made from constellations
And a needle made from stars.

What a beautiful tragedy
It just is what it had to be
Either swing with the rhythm or
Sink down into your seat while ya
Snap a cold can of brew open
Take a sip without chockin ya
Seasoned Smith with the motion you
Master crafter, not chosen, I'm
Self made man, I been workin still
Humble, held by my people, high
Dancing round in the isles, bar
Tender pour my potion, I need
A taste of your posion, push glass
Across marble oceans, look past
My eyes see right through you, so clear
The sky says it knew you, back when
We flew to the moon and lost our
Minds in a crater, digging for
Diamond stars, our creators burn
Now play me that sweet musical...

She looked at her pier-glass
Nail polishes drying
With half open lids
Her toes were colored once may be
You can get it from the toes
Green
Or pink
I don't know
Maybe red
She cried in her look
What happened to her womanly freshness?!
That says I'm beautiful
I know a woman
Who wears mustache
Do not make fun of her
Where is her womanly freshness?!
That says she is beautiful
That cut her hair
Blue scarves turned black
She cried in her look
Her tears reaching her lips
Starring at the corner
Pink colors were coming
Turning to deer
Green colors were going
Laughing
It had dolphins
It had blue color...
My bin
still has a clockwork doll
Handless
With green eyes
In her white gossamer dress still
singing
Dancing
Still happy
She can be happy
She can fall in love
With other clockwork dolls that sing
That were kids...
What if
I fall in love in the streets
With stared eyes
I will say hello to the passengers
When the trees
Make love too
What if I love you on the same
street with no address
It is said the laughter of maniacs is beautiful
It has simplicity
I have worn my childhood clothes
I'm mad...
She grew up
She dosen't know the walls
She has no mother
And waits to possess a pass anger
Do not make fun of her
Her womanly freshness...
It is said
I don't write poems

میز توالت اش را نگاه می کرد
لاک هایی با دری نیمه باز
که خشک می شدند
شاید می شد از ناخن پایش فهمید
زمانی رنگ داشتند
سبز
...یا صورتی
نمی دانم
...قرمز
در نگاهش گریست
طراوت زنانه اش کو!؟
که می گویند من زیبایم
زنی را می شناسم
سیبیل می گذارد
مسخره اش نکنید
طراوت زنانه اش کو!؟
که می گویند زیباست
که موهایش را بریدند
روسری هایی آبی
مشکی می شوند
در نگاهش گریست
اشک هایش تا گوشه ی لبش می رسیدند
به کنج دیوار که زل می زد
صورتی ها می آمدند
آهو می شدند
سبز ها می رفتند
می خندیدند
دلفین داشت
...آبی داشت
صندوقچه ی من
عروسک کوکی ای را دارد
بی دست
با یک چشم سبز
در لباس سفید توردارش
هنوز می خواند
می رقصد
شاد است
می تواند شاد باشد
عاشق شود
عاشق عروسک های کوکی دیگری
...که آواز خواندند
...بچه بودند
چه می شود که اگر
در کوچه ها عاشق شوم
چشمانم خیره باشد
سلام رهگذری را پاسخ خواهم گفت
وقتی درختان هم
هم آغوشی دارند
چه می شود که اگر
در همان کوچه ای که چشم ها
خوابیده اند
نامم را می پرسی
عاشق تو باشم
نشانی ندارد
که می گویند
خنده های دیوانگان زیباست
سادگی دارد
من
لباس کودکی هایم را
به تن کرده ام
دیوانه ام
بزرگ شد
دیوارها را نمی شناسد
مادر ندارد
و منتظر می ماند
تا رهگذری را مال خود کند
مسخره اش نکنید
...طراوت زنانه اش
که می گویند من شعر نمی گویم