She heard the door close and the sound of a trail of clothes
Then the room filled with silence as she lay exposed.
Her heart started beating, like a laugh too shy for her to undo,
"I'm in the bath", she whispered, "and I'm also in love with you".

There's a cool tropical breeze
blowing here Sweetheart.
I bet you'd feel it better
with a short skirt on
commando.
You know Darling,
I love playing soldier
with you
in this heat.
Meet me in ten...
privately.

I am afflicted,
dreamy,
with vivid visions
like deja vu.
We're seated there,
in uptown Manhattan,
she's sporting platinum hair,
covered in golden fleece,
scribbling
cryptic poetry to me
underneath the table.

Her eyes turn azure,
screaming
daisies
over a plate of alfredo,
I am in a hurricane.

And from the corner of my mouth,
I drool streams,
seeking answers
from outside the box.

Does she feel
like I do?

The wood was beneath, warped
With age, as the worms crept
Falling into the gapping chasm
Of petrified air. Ingested upon
Shattered bone, was the ragged
Wanting beneath.

The stone was polished, kept
As if newly left. Never was
Their needing for never were
Clothes tattered, they dined
Upon pigeon heart and entails
Of pedigree cat.

The Woman, of both below and
Above, vested wording to the
Ever breaking of parched skin and
Bone.

Those of wood and worm, clawing
Ascending through dirt, what was
Left of flesh pealed upon roots and
Stone, now only ragged cloth and
***** bone.

Why must we of the earth suffer,
The indignity of dirt while those
Above treated differently, we are
the same are we not, death is
Universal rot.

Then those of marble spoke up,
You are not like us for we are of
Death but we are of flesh,
Parched but whole, we are of
The clean, while you are of
Earth festering and rot.

"Silence"
"Still your airless voices"
"Each has a valid point"
"But my children of decay let me explain"

My children of earth you exhume
Yourselves each day, this shows
Strength for the journey you take,
Hardening you resolve.

You are neither filth or below,
Your strength is what others
Should look up to, you are pure
Of the mortal coils of flesh you
Are flawless in death.

My children of stone, what can
Be said,  you cling to life, but
That time has pasted, you
Linger upon flesh that is but
a moment from dust.

Time in earth has made your
Brothers and Sisters strong,
While yours are weakened
The weaknesses of above, my
Commands are simple their
Must never be two, death is
Singular we decay as one.

What was pasted, those of marble
Stripped of parched decadence,
They were now pure as those below.
Feast as others on that which crawls
Nourished by mother earth.

The woman of bone, wood and stone,
Was  a fair keeper and the only
Marble that graced was that which
Named those who slept below,
They were pure of mortal coils
They where the **dead of bone.

If I colored three pages
From a coloring book
You'd see the difference
In the intensity
The distribution of the color
It's just like that
In the way I love each of you
Different colors
Different intensities
But never think
They can be compared
Would however pick out
My favorite
And if it was good to me
Hold it close forever
As the one and only
But if I no longer matter
Then eventually
Neither will you

the punch line of this poem
is sweeter than the
smell of old jeans, grimy
under the cuff. it was a disingenuous summer
on our backs. earth worms
belly up in the sun.
writhing. pleading. drowning.
sand rubbing the wrong way on the calloused
cracked heels of summer.
neck slummed against
steering wheels.
burnt cheeks from leather.
tough.
I can’t remember, though.
fed on my memory more than on my body.
the clouds less appetizing than
cotton mouth: violently quiet

The sunlight was draped across my skin like the sheet of a bed,
I looked into his eyes and saw my future,
Suddenly, I could feel him touch my arm,
And when I think back,
I can still hear him ask me "Can I try something new?",
I can still feel him gently press his lips to my right cheek,
I can still hear him tell me he loves me,
I can still feel his hand in mine, his arms around my waist,
I can still feel my love for him in my heart when I think of him,
I can still feel my heart drop the day he left,
But the person I love is dead,
He's someone else now,
He's completely different, yet exactly the same all at once,
Just enough to make me miss a complete stranger,
Just enough to make me love someone I've never met,
Just enough for it to rip me apart when I see him,
I long for him to care for me the way I care for him,
I can't sleep at night, I stay awake in my bed thinking about him telling someone else he loves them,
As I lay staring at the ceiling reading the poem he wrote me, I know he'll always be here, be with me, in my heart, in my memories,
And I know it's time, time I let him go, time I set him free, time I give him the wings to fly out of my thoughts,
Time I let him move on, time I let him be happy, like I know we both deserve to be,
But I just can't.