you inhale tragedies
and exhale poetry

"...then write me a million poems."
he stood there
waiting for me
to drip the ink.

"...I am your muse, for eternity."
He could be true
for I find the sun, stars, moon,
oceans or seas
springing
inside his soul

"...without me, there'll never be a piece."
Here I am,
not moving an inch
slowly dropping the pen on
slow motion, I can hear the faint
clank of its metal

"... you are nothing."
His grin vanished without a trace
I don't know what to say,
so what I did, was just walked away.

I don't feel guilty about it anymore.
The way my mind falls on you in the dead of night,
Tracing images of you across my memory.

There can't be anything bad in this.

In the wanting, the needing, to touch your skin,
To press my lips to your neck,
To run my hands along your ribs.

I can't stop myself now.

I'm giving in.

A flower blossoms
In the midst of muddy swamps
It stands around the algae,
The petals smile even at the bees.

The grin of the little seeds
That the wind blows effortlessly,
Is sprayed to places and places
And preaches love and nothing else.

The sun sets as we get closer
cuddled up in an embrace
we got nothing but love in our veins
with eyes full of lust - we touched
now as the stars align
you and I
lay in these sheets tonight