cyanide kisses
subtle, deluded
swaying softly
against the tender
skin
of a sweaty cheek

subdued candle flame
four hips gyrate to
keep
the quiet sting of
counterfeit moonlight

the raging constitution
of knowing your eyes
But pressing hard to
kiss his cough-drop
Tongue
and all this sudden asphyxiation

not looking up to conceal
all the things I see
in the quiet ammunitions
of the letters of your name
fading away
ink bleeding with
his sour hot saliva
in your hallmark ricochet

the one you kept in the shirt pocket
you kept close
to your heart rate

I am afraid.
What to do with such unspeakable emotion?
I will hide beneath the surface
of the fine lines of his face
and forget about the almost
had
the tide against
the rage
in a ship of my own making
an anemone bouquet
the last reminder
of the time and the day
you made me feel
able.

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

There are people who cannot speak without smiling.
There are people who cannot cry without blaming.
And there are songs I cannot sing without dancing.
And I sing you like a song I heard when I was young.
And I  love like I discovered the concept.
I want to teach you how.
How to feel...
How to sing...
The drizzle of rain hugs me.
The shadow of your eyes miss me...
I Want to sing you like a song I cannot dance to.
Oh my love, There are people who fantasise about freedom and then  slowly build the walls to their own prison.

Too numb or too sensitive.
Too dumb or too smart
Too much or not enough
Too happy or too sad

There's nothing in between.