Like a stubborn flower
I'll bloom
but only in time

Eve said,
'bite',
I said,
'I might but
what's it worth ?'
She said,
'The Earth'

I sit and stare at a photograph
Or two or three
Or every picture that he saw fit to gift to me
And my gaze lingers in those hazel eyes
Losing myself in half-awake dreams at 4 a.m.
What if, and then
So let's say we are fated
Pulled and connected like the strongest of magnets
Mind to mind and heart to heart
Knowing that there is a freedom in that kind of unity
Believing, without choice, that we own the best pieces of each other
Still, what if isn't what is
What is isn't what could be
What could be is just another
What. if.
So I stare into those hazel eyes at 4:22 a.m.
And I wonder, if for him, I could overlook the cigarettes and stale coffee
Remnants of a history that has been unkind
Leave it to me to love a man
Who smells like the first one to **** me
But here at 4:30 a.m. I can believe
I can believe he smells like the earth after a winter rain
And I can believe, that to him, I smell like heaven
Lost in that sweetness
Captured on a phone
A thousand miles away
I can feel his skin on mine
His breath in my ear
Saying nothing and everything all at once
Here in the dark at 4:38 a.m., I can know beyond doubt
That he is where my heart is
With no rhyme or reason
I know, that should I ask
He would give me all of him
And I know this
As I sit here
Staring at a picture
Or two, or three
Or every picture that he saw fit to gift to me
As I stare into those hazel eyes
Losing myself in half-awake dreams
at 4:43 a.m.

To be honest
I don't remember who I was back then
The only thing I have left of her
Is the scent of my innocence
Lingering through the alley ways
Of what had once been
Because remembering the old me
Means remembering old memories
And that's just too much for me to handle tonight
So I'll just roll up tight
Let Miss Mary take the edge off
And call it a night
                A. DeCoil

I ain't lookin for anybody to save me
won't even accept the twirling garbage
that some women have tried to spoon
feed me after they figured out
I loved them in spite of the nasty ****
they confided in me.
You bet "I'll be your back door man"
and I'll actually possibly maybe wake
up the next morning without feeling any
kinda disgust towards you or myself since
I think I've thrown that unwanted baby
of puratinistic sticky ***** out the
window like I should've thrown out
my backwards medieval wanting for
a fairy tale called true love.
Yeah and life rolls on like a highway into
the pearly reflectors in the road
beckoning on into the dire consequences
of knowing that you want to love somebody
but understanding that all you will ever be
to that woman you've wanted to be with
for a year since you met her on accident
and that one day she found a yellow tweety bird
which had tried to **** itself on a glass building
we both worked in and you in your shyness refused
to pick up and put into a tree till she was gone;
is one weird ex-army ******* unless you
get you **** together and explain to her that
you don't want to be without her anymore.