I miss you today
I miss you again,
At this blue bay
I'm in much pain.

I'm burning inside
You can't feel me,
I love you so much
You didn't get me.

Will you love me ever
like you do snowflakes?
Could we walk together
again by the salt lake?

I want you to smile
always for happiness.
I need your adore, baby
Cause, I feel you endless!

I can no longer write poetry
I get lost in images

I unlearned synonyms, words
how to run my fingers over verses
while reciting them to be able to tell
what is stressed and un stressed
aspired for their depths and left them at the door (as far as they could go)
so I cannot write poetry
if it lingers in a vacant lot


the last womyn in the grocery store strolled out with her cart to her car and never turned around to see she dropped her vehicles’ keys at the door

I need poetry: the keys

(After Lorca)

In the cloudy evening,
I was a heart, a heart.

I was ripe with song
when I was breaking.

Oh, soul ... red soul,
the color of desire.

In the sleepless morning,
I was still myself, a heart.

The evening was ripe
with my voice, a song.

Oh, soul ... red soul,
the color of desire.

Her fingers prance around
        the bloodied strings.
    She keeps a grin plastered on her face;
the moist in her eyes gives her away.
      The air vibrates when she releases her voice –
                                              angelic whispers
  with tales of underlying suicide.
           He looked at the sky
                      and its chocolate shade;
spun around her playing, and blinked away tears.
                Death didn’t cry
    but staring in her lifeless eyes
                            made him feel
     such sadness he hadn’t felt in a long time.