

Poem to an X LoverA Poem to An X Lover From Across the RoomPoem to an X Lover
I like your sweet minutia. The little movements of your body The way you turn soft on such and such inhalations of breath Your gentleness when its present Your nervous habits that you think I dont notice
But when its over its over and theres nothing to be said. Dead branches, barren A bud without blossom Dried leaves on the soil they crackled as I collapsed
I like the way you hold your tongue (but only when its righteous) That easy sensuality with which you stroke your right


The Pain of Being WildI begin to feel sick to my stomach/The Pain of Being Wild
as I look upon your fields of carefully cultivated beauties/ pomegranites sweet with full perfection/ bananas unblemished and ripe/ joyous citrus and jasmine trees/ and rosebushes/ all wait patiently to be plucked by your hand.
But I am a wildflower/ incongrous/ assymetrical/ free/ my future is uncertain/ I know not whether I will be
picked with love or plucked and tossed with nonchalance
or anger. All I know is that I would rejoice to be picked by you/ regardless. Never mind you


reali swear to Godreal
that i love mine as much as
you love yours and that
if i could find the words to say it,
i would. if i could
find the perfect words, if i could just
close my eyes and instead of thinking
i love him i love him i love him think of something poetic and real and un-cliché, just for a second,
i would. but
i am-he is-we are poetic,
&nbs
--
-we must open our eyes without being poisoned by the evil we can see
Welcome to DA and such.
--
The next best thing to a time machine...
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