So quickly the erasure has begun
as pieces of me are being removed.
From that heart, I’ve been gutted out
from that mind, my reflection turned into shards.

I was suppose to know it was happening
that the coils my hair makes no longer brought joy
and understand that a betrayal was for me to take notice.

But it doesn’t matter now, as all the tenderness
as all the dreams, like abandoned leaves, dwindle away 
trapped in a dusty old box filled with memories, well forgotten
displaced by some new desire to excite the tête-à-tête.

So quickly the erasure has begun, in one day
what once was comforting as a simple embrace, a brush of the hands
is being replaced with talk of sleeping arrangements.

Bowl of Soul

She talks about friendship like the rest of them
and already I know what she means: Never call
Never text, Never reach out with your hellos of
“How are you?”  But yet I hope, she is different
as I build sandcastles for things beyond my reach
as the ocean pulls in and then devours everything.

Lover Sunset

On the Sofa; Mrs. Helleu
Image via Wikipedia

Lover sunset, please don’t be a love sofa
because a love sofa only tease the loving
that was meant to be used: completely sprawled
as a conduit of connectuals, I recline on a full set.

Can’t keep you Away in E flat

Romance Stories of True Love No 50 Harvey, 1958 SA
Image via Wikipedia

Can’t keep anything
Can’t keep you and your mind
Can’t keep your love, our love alive
Can’t keep the ghosts of unbelieving outside

Can’t keep you, as you’d want to be kept.

Looking for my Songbird

Sweetness (Misia song)
Image via Wikipedia

I hear the sweetness of desire in the timber of your sunset
and I want to cage it’s sound for when I feel washed of my love,
when I’m washed cleaned, that slow of my desires…

Two Strangers Kissing

I remember that night in Union Square, 
I was telling you some ridiculous tale
of my boyish adventures. I remember
the moment, my hands freezing for your hold.
Everything you said to me resonated
in a way a tropical island warms you
somewhere far from the cold
more romantic than anything in English.
In that moment, I  felt fluent in a syntax my tongue
was incapable of pronouncing as a teen
still yet to learn how to do proficiently.
While I was contemplating the correct
conjugative verb, the correct timing 
to accent my impulses, you fell close
to me and our lips locked on these streets
where everything is dirty, and crude.