The Scribbeling Writer

I am fast approaching a limit, an edge in three dimensions— just as paint reaches to the very corner of the canvas and the canvas touches the gilded verge of the frame— demarcating the divide between art and exhibition— I never stop short of where I should. A bolt from the blue— I capsize at the glistening lip of tragedy Somewhere, I am seeping  leaking  spilling out 

Kiss me in the morning sun

Paint my skin with the pink of your lips

You handle my body better than my heart,

You know it better than my mind.

But give me something else

Besides this momentary bliss

I need more of you

And less of this

Of your hands on my hips

And your breath on my neck.

Instead, look at me with your eyes closed

Paint my dreams with careful fingers

Enter my mind and explore

Read my words and feel what I feel,

A love that doesnt need to be made

Yet existing and true

Like the secrets we share.

Allow me to see you in the dark

Show me your universe

In the space between us

Bare your soul to me,

Make me feel what you feel

Open the door

And let me in.

all my dreams are patchworks of different people– his eyes, your cheek

strange hands grasp my slender ankle lifting me into the air. my head spins

and I stare at the spot in the corner of my room, where you always sat watching me 

twirling with my arms above my head to the music. I focus on that space,

red ripe aromas revolting.

Who would have known democracy died that day?

While humidy's height adds goo to the face,

we taste freedom in masked marches;

same as the dogs still wrapped in iron.

Blood moon waxes, an oculus

watching,

casting.

A Red ripe rage revolting.

As if eager for the bite

The scar

We holler about the wind

As if love should be power

All-consuming

But I have always wanted

A grassy oak on river-stream bank

A mountain softened with age

Still constant in the skyline

I hope you look back at what we had.

Our laughter, smiles and cries.

You will miss, every single moment that we shared together.

And, you will regret every single chance of letting me go when I wanted to stay badly.