I Am Patient
I am patient
but do not push
for it is silently
my heart will break
one night
and with no words
you will find me gone
come morning
I'm Writing to Tell You
I'm writing
This letter to tell you
I don't love you anymore.
I don't miss you.
I never have.
The truth is, I
tried, but never found
your adoration
anything other than arduous,
your niceties cliched,
your praise thoughtless,
and it has become
unbearably obvious
that you love me with
all the orginality
of romance novels;
the manly man weakening
the luscious flower.
But do not be sad,
nothing is lost,
neither of us even loved
the other truly-
you only thought you did
and I only wanted to.
Sometimes
Sometimes
I feel
my heart
fall
to vague depths
between
words there
are such
spaces that
I can't help
but feel
My Heart
fall
between
the pregnant pause
of all you will
not say
and all
I can
not ask
Too Many Nights
It's been
too many nights
of being with
to now be suddenly
without
It Has Been Long
It has been
long and
Bony since
your willing
ways since
those thirstful
days of
summer nights
and Burning Beds
Traffic
Throw yourself
into the traffic of
his desire
unpredictable
red sports car
no helmet in hand
your heart a potential
red smear
in the hindsight of
his rear view mirror
Freedom
Having mutliated
and freed myself
from the very wings
which for so long
held me aloft
I have cast my heart
like a purpled fruit
toward the violent earth,
far from the Heaven
of your arms
Blanketed by a Citrus Smile
blanketed by a citrus smile
your spalsh of sincerity evades me
your aim not at fault
I just have no faith left
for it to stick to
it is strange how in just
a few short months
I can look back on myself
like a stranger
and you
(whom I loved?!)
are like cumulous clouds
dull day after day
with your threats of thunder
and promises of passion
I await the blue flame!
doused in nutmeg!
wrapped in white linen!
but as you pass over me
there is no torrid sea
no humid embrace
Infatuation
infatuation is a strange thing
abony creature thin
with feeding on itself
it is addicted not to its subject
but to its own vain hunger
and needs but a pretty face
to fuel its rampant imagination
humid couch
and sweaty palms
fleshy carpets
ablaze with conquest
but when conquering is complete
the blood leaves its limbs
and it becomes disenchanted
(to the point of disgust)
with its subject
who sits then like a hollow trunk
emptied of its precious cargo
and left to fade
a seed relieved
of its transparent husk
to dissolve, finally
on a rough
and impatient
tongue
As a Child I Walked
As a child I walked
with noisy fingers
along the hemline
of so many meadows
back home
Green fabric
stretched out
shy earth
shock of sky
I'd sit on logs like pulpits
listen to the sermon
of sparrows
and find god in Simplicity,
there amongst the dandelion
and thorn
Saved from Myself
How often I've cried out
in silent tongue
to be saved
from myself
in the middle of the night
too afraid
to move
horrified the answer
may be beyond the
capability of my
own two hands
so small
(no one should feel this alone)
Cautious
You don't call
anymore.
You say
it hurts
too much
your heart
like one of
those
fragile cactus flowers
cast amongst
thorny ribs.
So ready
to be
hurt.