Die Another Day

The other day

you left
and every day

since the day you left has merely
just

another day.

I'm afraid
all my remaining days

I'll be living
without
you is going to be nothing but this
living Hell; just

day

after

day

after another
until I die

another day.

I Bet...

I bet your lips are laced with absinth,
and I can get drunk off your kiss.
I bet your skin is electricity;
the thought of it just reverberates through me.
I bet your eyes are enchanted;
tell me how else is it that I am so spell bound by it?
I bet your glance can stop my heart,
I can feel it beating with every glance, stops and starts.

I bet you have gravity;
Your pull shakes my spine, what insanity!

Your curves and arches, cotton and rose;
You cannot possibly be contained in any rhyme or prose.

Your Kiss

I will translate every intangible line of your flesh
into words
in every living language, and won’t stop until
you place a period at the end of my sentence with

your kiss.

After all,

what is the point of poetry

that is not meant for 

your kiss?

All I Live For

Drink drink drink
till you drown
drink after drink
all my thoughts unbound
crashing
wave after wave
all the images of you
pebbles on a white shore
still drowning in you
drink drink drink
all my thoughts unbound
fire fire burning, burning aglow
passion, your desire
burning my soul

Ring ring ring
I hear the bell toll
your glance, your laugh, your touch
that’s all I live for.

in-betweeners

Here we are,
in the morning.
Your legs wrapped around my ankles
lying in bed.
The gloomy morning is surprisingly hot,
and all you can afford to give me is a lazy
“morning”,
and I give you back a content smile.
You twist and stretch your body
crumbling and rustling papers filled with poems from last night
and reach over
and light up your half smoked blunt
and I grab and kiss the warm lips
of the handle of Gin, sitting by the side
of the bed
from last night.
Gently,
I kiss the bite marks of her name on your neck I left last night,
and you,
gently
trace his name across the scars you left on my chest last night,
and it’s all fine. A couple of
in-betweeners
losing…something, in this purgatory
of bed sheets,  papers of poems, Blunts of Mary Jane and handles of Gin
and somewhere in my mind I wonder
you do too, I assume
“What if…”
“What if we weren't survivals of a past freak accident?”
“What if we had crashed and burned with each other, not victims of a series of unfortunate collision?”
“What if you were mine, and I was yours and neither one of us belong to someone else?”
What if this, that, and a million other things
“What if…”
I’m drunk,
and you’re high,
and this is all bullshit.
It’s just us;
a couple of in-betweeners
lying.

Beautiful Lies

Some lies are
so beautiful
one cannot resist
believing them.

Wonder

They say:
"We accept the love we think we deserve."

I wonder
what that says about

                                 Me.