warm eyes

red wine

thoughts

and poetry

hands touching

glowing faces

by a fire

the delicate scent

of floral perfume

melting into

silky skin

the feel of fingers

kneading tensed muscles

easing pain

dissolving every worry

with lavendar oils

and loving sighs

caressing

escaping

into a deep place

where only lovers

can go

just one more night

at home…

for that, there is always time,

but with me you will never know.

Privacy

you get sweeter

everyday

Lonliness

you’ve been replaced

by peacefully alone

Husband

you are the ring

on someone else’s finger

I belong

only to me

and I am where I belong

Pillow

you are my palate

so many colors in my dreams

my lucidity

in these subconcious fascinations

is a great gift

Mother

you are the one

who loves me unconditionally

without even understanding me

Father

you are the first

of many men

to let me down

and I pity your regret

but thank you

for having it

Sean

you are my Wordsworth

and I am your Coleridge

Amy

you are my sister

and my closest friend

Brian

you were my lose

Sometimes I long for love

but know not how to give it

to anyone it belongs to

If I am sad

it was what I chose

Fighting was never something I enjoyed

but there was never a man I loved

I didn’t abuse or allow to abuse me

it is better to be alone

than in pain with someone else

There is no meaning

there is only life

it is awesome enough

without meaning

it is ugly and skewed

but awesome

if it weren’t

i would not hate time

the way that i do….

All lovers worth having

are out of reach

two steps before our enamoured face

and taller than all actuality

growing ever more large with time

like ivy on my heart

you sprawl

so unaware of me

cool familiar stranger

in all the usual places we meet

surrounded by “friends”

who would never approve of you

in love with me

so I dare not try

I don’t even believe

that I might deserve you

so many errors in judgement

led me to this confining predictament

of being only your friend

that I must content myself

on the sight of your smiling face

and the slights of your hands

against my arms as we speak

in noise filled rooms

your politeness fills me with affection

so unfounded

that I imagine every bit of eye contact

is a confession of desire!

you are not mine

but I am yours

queitly.

somberly.

wishing our paths had crossed

on a different road

long ago.

The classiest diner

in a town of 75,000–

take your new date

to impress her –

candle-lit outdoor seating

and authentic, charming waiters

with heavy accents

elegance that can only be dubbed

“Italian”

but on a quiet day

he is there

with his modest suit

and proud smile

he talks to the ladies

meeting for wine

on a tuesday

he smiles and tells his story

“Seventeen years old

when I came to America”

(no one asks how long

ago that was…)

“from a little town in the east

of Turkey..

with nothing but mountains

and snow…

nothing to do but make babies!”

he laughs, and goes on,

“I moved to Chicago with 20 dollars

Twenty dollars

in my pocket.

You can imagine how happy I was

when I earned my first $10…

always an Italian restaurant,

and so

it’s all I know..”

he smiles

and that says it all

it’s not italian

or turkish

it’s his

and the rest of the story

is a long hard journey

around his eyes,

down his cheeks,

beside his lips

and left to sleep

in his fantastic smile.

2 years

2 jobs

one new flat

in the city

one nearly good relationship

many bad dates

new friends

new outlooks

new partners–

well

more for you…

more prudness

from me

2 new outlooks

on life

more time at the gym

5 less pounds

a smaller butt

a better appreciation

for life

family

the few true friends

more observation

more hesitation

more sure

of what we want

and what we don’t

but

far from certain…

so many things change

the same face

but less familiar

realities

I’d rather not know

you

me

might of beens

but time has

cleared the lingering thought

and here i stand

in your unfamiliar bathroom

reaching for your pomade

as if i had used it yesterday

the very same jar

from days together

and i have to laugh

the only thing

that hasn’t changed

since it ended

different

funny word

concept for something

which cannot exist

only opposite

something else

i’m different

now

i’m someone else’s

same

closed doors

and pensive reflections

inside

looking out

wishing someone

was

different

and just like me…

Threadlike

Pale

Waterless

Cracked

Calloused

Gauzy

Desiccated

Undesirable

Slivers

On Their Empty Faces

Dry

Dreary

Despicable

Lifeless Little Holes

For Food

Untouched

Unsought

Unnecessary

Lover,

There are no lips but yours.

Sketching

In the margins

Unable to justify

The sensual curve

Of your lower lip

Pen to mouth

I find my own lips

Agape

And longing for yours

An Agony

Of unknowns….

The feel of your olive cheeks

To my fingertips

The sweep of your hair

Against my bare skin

The way your body shutters

As it falls to sleep

I so unable to concede

to never knowing these simple extascies

My pen so unwilling

To stay inside the lines

Continue my routines

As if my life was never interupted

By its brief incounter

With yours

Too wet

Is the stain

Of your eyes upon me

The final lingering look you gave

At an opportune moment

Uncovering in my expression

Every notion of frustration and passion

I felt for you

Vulnarable. Restrained. Longing.

Eager to hear all of your philosophies

and convictions

To expose and caress you

To uncover the reasons

for our instantanious comfort

in each other’s presence

You’ve awaken the girl in me

Who still believes

In love at first sight

and unconsciously draws the lips

Of her love

In the margins.

came to our spot

at 3:52

you said you’d be there

by the fountain

in the fog

our embrace would

send the low clouds

packing

sunshine in our eyes

for each other

lover you were

my East

and everything that rises

a sanctuary on the page

the one who keeps

grey skies in check

and i was waiting for you

at 3:52

but you never came.

is your head

on a pillow

or a shoulder

your nose in a book

or the napp of a neck

the route you take

from A to B

is not always

a highway

tell me,

future lover,

where do you lie?

in an ear

or on a bed?