She is in part
a viper,
a poisonous plague
upon my heart,
venom spitter
dark adder
damming me
from a distance,
crumbling my
resistance.

She is dangerous
but I do not mind,
I find I like that kind
of danger.

Oh ... but you’re a tragedy!
Upon one glance you see,
only see darkness in his dark brown eyes,
He tries to conceal it

But certain truths cannot be denied

When I stumbled into him
The cold of his eyes slowly my ticker paralyzed
I would love him for most days
Ignorant of the grey that involved him

It wasn’t love expressed in the most loving way history has ever been told

But oh boy, oh boy
That man was a tragedy
He would freeze me in his embrace
And let go almost on my second last breath
Thirstily murmur the tenderest words poets ever spoken

Though it was only poetry if professed by him

The wildest spirit I ever knew
Couldn’t be borne by no carnal form
that would be taken in this life

My sweet sweet woe
Do not grow any fonder within me
I won’t say it was love, but I would love you until the sea creatures needn’t the ocean to survive

If it’s love, let me pursue it
If it isn’t love, let me ordeal it
And enjoy the most pleasurable suffering that no pains ever caused

This cloying woe I would endure for the next three lives, possibly more

I like the little people.
They haven’t lived long enough
to become jaded. They’re not judgmental.
They’re inquisitive and want

to learn. And they listen
with full hearts and empty heads
eager to get filled. The big people have
empty hearts and full heads. So, they

don’t listen well. And they’re simpler,
the little people. They find joy in little,
mundane things. The big people need the fancy,
expensive and complicated toys to bring them joy.