Relaxation

Like a peaceful

Dream

Fills my body

Which sits

Slouching

At my computer

While I

Compose lines

That allow me

To cleave

To the

Divinity

Of everyday

Life.

I, now,

Alternate

Between

Notebook

And a blue-white

Dancing

Computer screen

As a poem

Begins to write

Itself –

It is if

I am discovering

Lines of

God’s creation

And copying

Them,

And as

Clouds part

This poem

Splashes

Across the screen –

Like a serene

Impressionistic

Painting.

I have

Painted

A portrait

Of myself

With words.

6/6/16

The might of a man is not 

right of a woman.

It is a circle.

The depth of a man is not

left of a woman.

It is a line.

Split apart and you get two

halves.

She's perfect.

White skin.

Sweet skin.

She's so tiny,

Yet so cute.

I can't do this.

I shouldn't do this.

Oh, you!

What have you done to me?

I've traveled far,

And came across,

Thousands of things,

But why you?

My Queen Ant,

Oh please forgive me,

But I cannot stop

This unfathomable desire,

For my sweet sugar.

1. I never use your name in my poems. 

2. I couldn't even think of kissing you without liquid courage in my veins

3. I told everyone you were my best friend. We are equal parts not lovers and not friends

4. "I love you but not enough to date you" I could never convert my wanting into spoken words. I write more poetry.

5. "I wouldn't be able to have a sexual relationship with you" my fingers tremble when I touch myself. I'm too clumsy to touch you.

6. I haven't spoken to you in days. I never stop thinking of you.

7. The moon hides from the sun every day for all eternity. Is it holy? Is it cowardly? 

(we'll never know, will we?)