Many moons,
have passed over my headpiece,
as you leave me behind,
in moondust & ashes each night,

You collect on the bookshelves,
I keep here,
collecting on hearts with your light,
dusting my world with your beauty,
diminutives in bits of the white,

This is not the end of the journey,
 this a mere tiny part of the flight,
and I've not seen any more shiny,
or any star nearly as bright,

Though I am unable to see you now,
or touch your skin ever again,
or truly hear you with my ear,
I still miss you so my friend,

I know I cannot be near you now,
I cannot be where you are,
as you are but a twinkling light,
a brilliant & distant, star-

If it was not but for the moon dust,
my heart wouldn't,
be able to see you anymore either.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Somewhere, amongst the debris
of cigarettes after ***,
chemicals to induce sleep,
I forgot what it means to love.

I forgot what it means to breathe,
to sit still, and just be.

Somewhere, beneath these hooded seams
of solitude and well-versed grief,
beats a heart less cynical,
less tamed by vague distraction.

My nervous ticks and bad habits,
line of best fit for a near-hit
of satisfaction:

This is not enough, I know.
This is not nearly enough
to cool the bray of life
that still rattles meaning in my bones.

I forgot what it means to love,
what separates a house from a home.

Somewhere beyond this thirst
for brand-new words
is a gratitude for all that has been.
Every cliché holds a truth.

Every sentiment, a cocoon,
that I should lie so still inside

until I am wholesome,
until I am new.

Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams

I can turn you into poetry,
But I cannot make you love me.

I wish my hands could explore your body like astronauts in the cosmos
Your eyes, like interstellar stars, connecting to the inconceivable constellation network that are your thoughts, like safe havens for space travelers.

I would pin you to the edges of a galaxy.
Kiss you like I were being ****** into a black hole and our lips were all that was holding me back, and as the dark unforgiving void that is something I can’t even comprehend begins to devour my being, I would be satisfied with this universal exploration of a life.

I would paint you into a celestial being.
Astronomers would gaze in awe.
No matter the eccentricity, My gravity would forever rotate amid such a pulchritudinous space.

Amid something so milky.

When the moon hovers hallucinated
on the post canal
breaking in bubbles of fish breath
the white widow of the night
revives her long dead tongue
to lick the scales of your skin
pulling you into her bed of nails
making love with you the whole night
leaving you bruised and insatiate
when they find your shadow
scouring the edge of the canal
with her name on its lip.

when your words intend to impart advice
or new direction towards a better day
tell me through your story

not some short collection of words
that ring pretty in my ears
or look as if they carry weight

when your words are short and sweet
and their poignancy implies reverence
i will struggle to understand

because i know that sugar can cause rot
and i know, time spent alone in the dark
is how we learn what shadows hide

please tell me more than one line
of some truth you came across
i will listen, if you sell me more than candy

it snowed overnight.
there were no indentations
or footsteps in sight.
i ran barefoot forever
through the yards and streets
so everyone would know
i lived.