where cheese grows on cow trees

You will never love me.

though your soul is still bruised
and your passion is spent

you could if you wanted to,
but you will never love me.

your heart will never beat faster at the thought of me
i will never hear the poetry of your pen
and from you
i will never smell the redness of a single rose.

you could if you wanted to
but you will never love me.

your heart is another's
always another's.
everyday.
you say it in your silence.

your kisses taste of pure sweet longing
for lips that aren't mine.

it is with your eyes that i hurt the most.
they do not look
because it is my own that stare back
and the disappointment
of sight
lines the air thick with lost love


you could if you wanted to
but you will never love me.


and although my own love
has made poetry from this pen

and although my own longing
made the roses smel sweeter

and although my own eyes
seek yours as they turn away


the air is still thick.
your soul is still bruised.
your passion still spent.


Because your heart is another's.

And you will never love me.



**************************


as if you didn't know this was written for you.

perhaps
before these slumbered
moments lose their
sweetness

perhaps
before this hearth
in burning
ceases

perhaps
before this heart
in beating
breaks


i must wake.


perhaps
before i crave this
furtive lust

perhaps
before these hands
should seek your softened
touch

perhaps
before the day
destroys the dreaming


and morn reflects the darkness of the evening
through eyes that look without them seeing



i must wake.

And now you must rest.

Be still for me.
As I listen
to each surreptitious breath,
my head pressed up against
the rise and fall
of your breathing

Lying in a tangle of arms
and legs
and everything in between.
Slowly, I taste the salt from your skin.

It is at this time that I pretend you are mine.

Fingers clasped, sweet kisses.
My ethereal wine.

Inebriated. I trace each line, each fold, each crevice.
From the curve of your brow
to the arch of your hand.

Not even the darkness of the firmament can snatch you from my fingertips.

where the light seeps through the darkness or where dark spots find their place in the light?

doesn't matter. we all try to fill them somehow.

i think i tried too hard to fill mine.

Me: (Sitting alone outside starbucks)

Strange woman: Excuse me, can I sit here? I'm waiting for my ride.

Me: Okay.

Strange woman: Are you Chinese? Because I was looking at you inside and you look Chinese.

Me: Umm..no.

Strange woman: Okay. My ride's taking so long, you think you could help me?

Me: (blinks)

Strange woman: You think maybe you could just drive me home and I could pay for your gas?

Me: Umm.. I can't. I'm waiting for some friends.

Strange woman: Okay then, maybe you could just give me twenty pesos because I'm starving already.

Me: (long panicked pause) Uh, I don't have change right now, maybe those other people do. I have to go, bye.

(mad stumbling-running inside)


Moral: i really haven't figured out yet.