Mon Vert

In the drop of our breaths Something has eased between us clarity  in our minds There is a difference  That mildly sets us apart Convincingly  You were  You told me peace  was a chance.

  A cat came in my door Once Curious As its paws made way To questions  I never asked myself before "Why is your room messy?" It asks "Why is this blocking your door?" "Why is this wet?" Maybe because I let it in That only then I understood Its indulgence Or my lack thereof To be tempted to answer But I let it in Slowly revealing that my light Is rougher Compared to  To its black coat Aster  As the void in my heart I pet it Stroke the smooth shine Out of its fur I bring it dust The grime of the world Out of jealousy  Out of spite  I hoist it near me Brought it to my lap As its eyes blinked in skips of emerald As its ears drooped Relaxed To drowsiness To slumber As it slept with me In my grime Then away it went Like smoke it wandered off  Knocking on my door  Just like when we first met Asking for exit From another That I never saw it again Or if I did Maybe it all was just smoke that lingered A little longer.

Love may never Have been born  The way  The sun adored  Your face Its kind  tickle of notes Perhaps it is expressing when it touches you As it asks for the redness of your cheeks The dimpling  That speaks the ripeness The flesh of the flesh stubbornly hiding In your words that swarm the  days in my dream As my heart dances to the tune Inside my head the words are flowing In gushing waters Nearly past my ankle Soft and boyishly present In innocent tenses I seem to wonder More how can those eyes Ever bear tears It holds much more Than life.

  the rough touches the dark The split  When I close my eyes The thunderous clouds Seem to clear Isn't it something Isn't it just right As it is imperfect The room of which genius Becomes a cracked piece of glass Edges that could cut into paper hearts scattered to bland varnished floorboards if magic permits Our eyes might meet  Between the cracks it doesn't hurt that way little is more little is a place to be that we may see the sun  Behind the hill.

Naked As you say  I'm yours I love love love love In the meantime We are mad as salt touches  Our lungs  we may never breathe Again It says This summer heat is all we have It whispers I am yours The deal is It whispers I'm yours.

  the difference is that when nights fall As every coin does in a wishing well There is a silent drop  That happens mid-flight a small gap in the air Where all the unfulfilled Wishes go As their shadows meet The big lapse in their judgement.

 In a jazz The bell rang for us to get out the room In a guzzle of steps  You could think we were Dancing! One and two Four and eight Suddenly all the ladies Are in their red dresses scarlet kisses Ready to steal  Hearts  Or rather The pink pig at the corner  Of a bin Its Huston Street Says the guy  With the trumpet buzzo-zipee- Dipee-JAX Suddenly it stops And this woman  With the sultry eyes comes down from marble steps In her faux-pur coat And glittering gown  As smoke comes from her soles Woah woman She says I gotta ask you Can I borrow this pen of yours? I need it for my performance I'm up next And  As I drunk down to the roses that tinted the floors their nude In this oak borne establishment That buzzed my stupor away The strings from that goddamn Cello Snuck in To steal my pupils I said I can't lady I can't write." As her curls waved down  To her lashes And the ooze of lethargy  Must've weighed down the gravity  In that r...

You wouldn't understand It Because Often than not My heart pounds loudly against my chest  There is sickness all around And I only could do much As walk And talk And laugh idly as the day goes into a trance silence is no longer.

The many variations that we may never know Where this goes is unclearly stated But whatever it is its delicate manner of speaking it promises a place.

  What is there to understand  look at the tides the coast Everything is right in vague.

  All these pointed narrows Seem to find me all round In my flight in the naught of it all the gushing wind begins to pace I am in the whirlpool To be taken away As I prepare to drift Into the gray abyss there is a break in the air A colorway parts  into a mist To an oblique.

  Confusing  Just as it is not as we swell With the waters that make of us there is a small  corner  that refuses to sink into the depths a pocket where everything is  as dreamt Whole The truth is I believe sometimes but  I'd rather not.