by Xve
knurls of my fingertips
eagerly anticipating the
warmth of her own touch
to encircle my own.
My eyes grew wet with tears.
A smile turned up for a small
second –
then my heart sank like a stone,
as from my hand, her grip –
slipped.
The Reach – ll
I want to stretch out my arm,
and reach for your hand –
So when our palms meet
and our fingers land,
into a knitted hovel
of love.
Knowing that your touch
is an extension of your beauty,
Believe me –
my reach, would be for you
only.
For I could never imagine
being without you.
But, my reach, falls short.
Because I’m always the one
reaching out, and you’re
the one running about.
I hate to say –
I want.
Because no one seems to
care about that.
I hint that I would like,
which is more subtle
than direct.
It just feels so perfect,
but so many things I never know.
I lost you for 6 months.
A monsoon of tears I’d often
daily cried.
I was reaching out for you then,
but the reality of the situation
soon set in, and to me did not lie.
I am just a man. A flesh and blood
human being –
I am full of love for you, this is
something I hope that you are
seeing.
Please baby –
I’m reaching,
I’m hoping,
I’m trying,
I’m dying – to be the one
who loves you daily.
Please, all I ask, is that you
just don’t play me.
I’m not rich, or made of money,
But if you became mine, then
nothing could stop me –
from claiming glory, of any
new story
We could both write to summarize
the tale of our love in our lives.
I would love to reach to you, to
place a ring on your finger –
I would love to reach to you, to hand
to you, or take from you, our daughter.
I would love to reach to you, in the coldest
part of the darkest night –
I would love to reach to you, to keep you
warm and safe, and do things for you right.
My hand is open,
my heart is open,
and though it is
easily broken,
I love you so much –
That it is worth the pain
from the reach.
Why can’t we both agree,
That is we could simply
get past the small issues,
we might just be perfect
for each other?
Grave and subtle differences between Man and Woman
Let me take you to a better
place, he said, with a heart
full of grace, as open and
brilliant as the new day
sun.
Let me be the one, who extends
of himself, to bless you so you
can rest and grow and learn to
love.
No, she said. I don’t need you,
nor want you, I am who I am,
and won’t bow to you.
Bow to me? He replied, there
is no need. I want to put aside,
all childishness and foolishness.
I have long been in the pit, of
lies and games and deception,
my new mission, is to love
someone, you, if you will allow.
No, she said, I am in love with
substance, and with circumstance,
and I won’t take a chance, not
with you, because we played
the game of flesh and it’s not
worth it.
And he said, take my hand,
we are still who we are. We
are still two who can become
one. We are still two who
can think as one, we are still
two, who can overcome, we
are still two, who can live,
love, learn and grow together.
Life is not always as such, I
know, I have grown. Please
trust in something, other than
yourself?
I can’t she replied. My eyes
can not see that far. I am trying
real hard, on the small that I
am able to create for me, though
you laugh at my progress, for
me, you would never guess,
just how hard, even that was
to come by.
My life is in shambles, my home
is lost, I only have my pets, and
those who I can manipulate to
support me.
I can not manipulate you. You
want the real me, and a real me
does not exist.
I can see the real you he exclaimed,
I can touch the real you. You are
not dead. You are just in limbo.
Let he guide you through? Let
me hold your hand and at the
end, love you like you should.
She silenced for a moment, and
thought and pondered and bit
her lip, then said -
No, Because, I am just me, and
it is my nature, to stay as such.
She won’t pick me.
I’m out of her league.
Or, should it be –
the other way around?
Then I wouldn’t frown.
So much.
I would wait.
Just to see her face,
smile at me,
glow towards me.
But, the clock ticks on
and she uses who is close.
I want to be used.
I only want to touch her –
I’ve loved her.
But, it was one-sided.
I dream too much.
Short, vignettes of desire.
Strokes too the much the
raging fire in my mind.
- in hopes
- in fact,
that I want her.
But, I’m just the bent ten in
a new deck of Aces and Clubs.
Her beauty is so subtle.
And yeah, she’s a bunch
of trouble –
But, trouble couldn’t be
any cuter.
I’m a fool man.
She’ll never pick me.
In a sea of authenticity,
I’m not the Pantages Lamp, or
the hundred year old pair of
underwear.
I’m nothing special.
So, who am I to dare,
to cast my hat in the ring?
I’ll show you how –
With everything I’ve got.
This life,
This moment,
These situations
are my only shot.
So why not?
My heart sprouts roses
when I see her.
My skin turns to ginger bread
when I touch her.
My eyes narrow so,
from a smile that I can
barely see her.
She is who I want.
I can only hope,
that, she’ll pick me.
Most mysterious mystery
What is the beauty of a woman truly for?
&n
bsp; Was it given to her to use, to become a whore?
Was it given for gain; to trade for profit galore?
Was it given for her to use to explore,
the seductive evilness of an exploitive world, distressed,
where no one could really care a pound less?
This is just my guess,
as I will confess,
to the confusion and duress,
of the pain I feel in my chest,
from the weight of Death,
as it hangs above my sorrow-filled
soul.
It’s from the hurt that I feel,
cause I know the deal,
of Why –
When a woman walks by,
How my heart aches as it she steals,
with her cat like ways,
as her body does sway;
I could watch her for days,
as the sun does play, shining
off her unimaginably beautiful face.
Voice of Harpsichord grace,
with hair that shimmery shines above,
pretty eyes, covered in skin tones
of smooth cold gold.
From her speech, I’m just sold,
On Her, to Her and for Her.
If only she would know.
If she could just take the time, to see -
She would find – that, as I am told,
She would simply become my world.
And this is true, I tell you,
this is what she can instantly do …
Her beauty can find the will inside
for a man to cry and feel justified.
For a man to endure, this destructive world,
For a man to rise; to rise above the fold.
For a man to refuse to get a wink of sleep,
For a man to work hard towards his dreams,
For a man inside to find the light, or
a man outside, to trade his life.
A Woman’s beauty chases away all of men’s fears.
Her beauty can make him stronger, smarter and feel
younger in years.
A Woman’s beauty punches a man in his stomach,
makes him shake with waves of nervous snow.
Her image can make a man feel inadequate, until it’s you
he gets to know.
A Woman’s beauty can unravels a man’s plans, shatter
his carefully crafted mold back to that of a five year old.
From the Beauty of You, You precious souls,
It is your Beauty that has shaped this entire world.
When a Woman shares her beauty with a man at night,
and the connection between the two is right,
this is the action that gives him all his might,
to take on the world in a stand up fight.
He’ll be the Soldier, who develops a sixth sense to return home.
He’ll be the Doctor, who works harder than any other.
He’ll be the Teacher, who envisions you in the classroom,
Or maybe the Poet; writing you this heart-filled sonnet.
But make no mistake about it,
The Beauty of a Woman is a gift, which serves
as more, than as just a covering of skin.
It is the key to where all humanity can win.
Because a man strides, a man conquers, just to find that one
Beautiful Woman, the one who he can lay the
spoils of plunder down at her feet.
In hopes of calling her –
His complete own.
It’s never returned
and she never cries
No matter what I put out,
it never comes back.
My boomerang is broken
and the return policy
is null and void.
She never cries, because
she’s a tough little girl,
in a beautiful shell,
and full of herself,
but not in a bad way.
It’s never returned
because, I must be cursed.
Of course, that’s the
reason. Because I say
the wrong words,
in the wrong seasons.
Yet, she’s so beautiful,
when she’s laughing,
and talking,
and walking.
She’s brash and painted
and delicate.
She smokes,
and jokes,
and loves her
puppy dog.
I love her.
But, it’s never returned.
I can’t tell her,
because she gets
antsy and afraid.
It’s beautiful when
she cries. Because
that’s a world all
in of itself.
And she never lets
anyone see that.
She let me see,
and I believe,
in her heart.
Her will and her
desire to change,
to grow, to be
a better person
and to live a full
life.
She doesn’t want that
with me, however.
But the world is a two
way street, and I love
everything about her.
So, it’s never returned
to me.
Oh God, send the Angel
of Death quickly.
I’ll even set out milk
and cookies.
As I’m just a long, lost
loser blowing like a
grain of sand in a
storm around her.
She cries, because
she’s been hurt,
and she’s given her
heart,
and she knows
where she is.
She is delicate, under
all that scaffolding.
She’s a work in progress
trying to fall in love with
herself,
So she can love someone
else.
But, she won’t pick me.
So, what I feel is never
returned.
It just burns, going on and
on and on, like the unwatched
comet.
In a sea of blackened
nothing.
Nothing Romantic About the Pain
Who knows what happens,
When things go wrong.
Who can say when the music bleeds,
Dead away, from a song.
And Rhythm no longer seems to move your feet,
Food is tasteless every time you eat.
A person’s smile makes you react as though it were a frown.
Even the sun shining every day, seems to get you down.
You look at yourself and can’t find your own face.
You remember past loves and feel such disgrace.
Were there hard words?
Deception?
Betrayal?
Actions that made you curl,
Like a snail?
And creeps your mentality to a daily, conforming slow –
Only you’ll know – and to attest; to the cloud in your head
the pressure in your breast, of a heart that is continually breaking.
Your body lies aching ... under covers, hiding from the world
of reality, bending your mentality and wreaking havoc to woe.
Reality – is this so?
Is it reality or just the one you now must know?
NO ! You truly don’t.
Believe me – There’s nothing romantic about the pain.
Nothing luminescent about constant rain – drizzling in your spirit.
Get with it!
You’re so young,
So beautiful,
So free,
Just talk to me.
Walk with me,
Spar with me,
Argue with me,
Cry with me is you must –
I’ll do all I can to help you crush,
Those old bad memories to dust.
I’d do my best to make permanent, your smile.
And instill a repair of goodness for a while.
I know – Me, you don’t need all,
But while walking in darkness, isn’t light considered a friend to prevent your fall?
How about a real person, - who an ear they’d gladly lend?
Like a person who’d stick with you till the very, very end.
Don’t let some good words – scare you away.
For you, if you’ll let me, I’d be there to stay.
No, no doormat rules here need to apply,
Lift those pretty eyes up to the sky … and SMILE.
I’m not much,
Not rich,
And definitely not pretty.
But you ask me things so impossible to do,
Such as forget and abandon you –
Can’t do, sorry, not my creed.
Can’t stick to surface subjects or passé feelings.
I’m just too real.
But, don’t fear,
I won’t disrespect or overrun you –
I just want you to know, for you – I’m simply here.