Red cherry romance
Red cherry realm
Red, I’m really ready
to ravish your realm.
I hold you by the stem
myself I overwhelm
I try not to taste
this ruby red gem:
Red blissful Cherry,
I say one thing
and mean the contrary.
So, tell me would it be a total waste,
to not divulge
in a little taste?
To not sink teeth into
Flesh I’ve known:
a flesh much sweeter
than my own
A flesh so ripe
holds nothing too new-
just a Red that is red
after a season so blue.
-the waiting game
Here it is Tuesday, December 5th,
perhaps it is where you are too.
Lately I’m not where you are.
I haven’t been paying much attention to calendar dates
or what time my head meets my pillow each night.
I say “Goodnight” but
I can’t claim I sleep at night-
unless night is just another word
for the start of an early-riser’s day.
I’ve been sleeping at 5am
and I only know this because you
have been too.
As far as I know we are together,
unless I know nothing.
But, if I know that I know nothing: that is still knowing something.
I know it’s raining outside
and you love the rain;
I wonder if you
love me like I love the rain.
If we were together
-paradox is your favorite word, right?
Better are specifics than empty words:
ones that make minds quiver
banning restful returns-
Regulating laws and
destroying the destroyers,
exposing the irritable and
closing the foyers,
celebrating the ones who
utilize beauty in language
instead of using mere syllables
toward incentive anguish.
-I wish I could write before I speak
You looked at me with black eyes and
Summoned me with the sound of your own name.
I wish to use you,
But never abuse you.
I have a desire to know more,
Really include you.
Does it bother you that you go unnoticed and are oftentimes
Do people remember you only to forget you?
I would never do that.
I hand you to them, so that they may have a chance
To be as enamored with you
As I was when we first met.
But do not fear.
Even if they reject you,
You will always have me.
-becoming a friend to a word you just met
I speak greater in ink than
Collection of sound.
Do you feel the pulse in my palm?
My hands hold more than a heartbeat.
Each time a pen is grasped between my fingers,
My hands become my mouth.
-Some will listen, others will read.
He saw her other notebooks across the room and asked her to show something that she had never shown anyone. She laughed. Maybe harder than she should’ve. She only shared her words with herself. Once in a while, she gave something to the world.
You take what you get. You take what she gives you.
He teased, “What? Are you scared?”
And while closing her notebook, she nodded with a sly smile and said, “Yes.”