I have never noticed.
The beautiful wrinkles
that you get
Around your deep sea green eyes
(That I could drown in)
Whenever you smile.

Because  we're always arguing
I have always missed
That pretty gap  between your teeth
The cute dimples
The light in your  eyes
And the electricity
In those magical moments
when our hands "accidentally"  brush against each other

Today, three years ago, I lost you.
But I know,
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language,
even the phrase "I love you"
Doesn't make any sense.

I have given everything
You are still taking

Enough time has passed
And I'm still waiting
For that feeling of satisfaction
That comes when you let go of a toxic addiction
This is me second thinking my decision
The millionth time

that which I cannot have

I've held on too long
I deserve more than your letting on
I'm not a mouse
The tiny crumbs on which you feed me,
do not bring me satisfaction
Your lack of attention, inability to open up
Your aversion to honesty, are a price to low
I think my selflessness and unbound trust
Should be a bit more expensive
At this point, your an anchor
Your holding me back
I'ma cut you lose
It's not prudent to give too much for too little

Today I did something right.
Maybe it was the midnight blue roses,
or the vanilla scented candles,
or the love flavored kiss,
I added to the menu tonight.

But I never missed that gap-toothed smile,
or the dimples,
or the wrinkles,
or the hope that I never wake up.

I’m armoured in secrets and lies
Cloacked by an air of mystery
Tell me who I am!

I belong to everyone
I belong to no one
Tell me who I am!

We all know something about me
None of us knows all of me
Tell me who I am!

I am calm as still water
I am aggressive as a lioness on the hunt
Tell me who I am!

Don’t worry
You have time
Sleep on it
But when you wake up
Tell me who I am.

I will sit and spin
And let the madness in
Till the sailor
Finally weary of the sea
Returns with tin souvenirs
And a claim to me

She looked into my eyes;
She smiled;
And I was lost.

He lives in his father's house.
He pays his dues.
There is nothing for free.
The right way to live.

Did you see photos in sixty-eight
Of children with their hair becoming rust:
Sickly patches nestled on those small heads.
Then falling off,like rotten leaves on dust?

Imagine children with arms like toothpicks.
With footballs for bellies and skin stretched thin.
It was kwashiorkor- difficult word.
A word that was not quite ugly enough, a sin.

You needn’t imagine. There were photos
Displayed in gloss filled pages of your Life.
Did you see? Did you feel sorry briefly,
Then turn around to hold your lover or wife?

Their skin had turned the tawny of weak tea
And showed cobwebs of vein and brittle bone:
Naked children laughing, as if the man
Would not take photos and then leave, alone.