I can’t see your face when we talk,
Your eyebrows going up and down,
Your lips the shape of a Chinese roof
And more often like an eagle’s wings.
Your forehead drowns me every time
As does a scary deep ocean
On which waves of lines smirk and smile,
Enough to say what’s on your mind.
Your eyes, those gateaux for my soul,
Limpid with so much flirts and whores,
To my heart’s beat open and close,
In my dreams are a wise man’s lore.
Why I feel your skin and taste your moan,
While we’re making love on the phone,
While we’re distanced by shores, I don’t know.
God knows each day I love you more.
I don’t hide the truth because I just can’t.
I can only cover it like the sun
Laughing, dancing, effulgent, wild, and mad
Behind that palette kaleidoscopic,
Soft, pristine, virginal, silent, and still.
I can’t define truth because I must not.
A measured, standardized truth is a lie,
That one bird whose wings are cut, that can’t fly;
That one song whose lyric is pretty yet empty,
And whose only strength forgettable melody.
I must not define truth because there is not one:
There are truths, half-truths, some breathe out black smoke, some white;
Positive, negative; chilly days, summer nights.
A painting more truthful, whose lines both blurred and defined,
That truth, like a chiaroscuro of light, is divine.
I can’t see the moon from my room,
But I can feel her through you.
You’ve been singing me to sleep
For quite a few hundred years.
Your voice hasn’t changed one bit;
Your breath smells of cookies still.
via Daily Prompt: Fifty
One misty Friday morning.
Alone in my room, I opened the window. Smelled none but you.
Your cologne and morning breath. Sweat and snores. I missed them.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Hey, Kim, breakfast!”
“Dad, in a minute.”
I opened the door.
“Son, don’t rot in here. Find a new Dave.”
via Daily Prompt: Expert
Whom do we go to if we are sick and in need of some medical advice?
Whom do we ask forgiveness from if we want to be washed away of our sins?
Whom do we look for to love and marry us despite our ugly, self-delusional selves?
Whom do I suggest you should read for some headache and enlightenment?
via Daily Prompt: Shiver
The night is windless,
And the sky so pale.
Somewhere there’s a ruckus
As I awake in pain.
Bang! Rat-a-tat! Bang!
People running. Shouts.
Children wailing. Sobs.
I’m saying something—
via Daily Prompt: Vice
My brain is telling me to stop,
But my heart, high and wise, just can’t.
When I see you I always see
Colors, clouds, heavens, and angels
Walking so tall, pleased, and erect
Like my dreams and my sense of self.
So many times I’ve been told to quit,
But never have I tried to yield,
‘Cause if I do it would be death—
Death so shameful I can die twice.
I’m sure I can never stop you
From seducing me. I should know,
I’ve known you since the beginning:
You’ve played with me, you’ve played on me.
I am stupidity genuine, sublime;
You are the sweetest suicide worth a try.