he is to me
as i
sometimes i believe that he um,
i love the way he looks at me
he is to me,
but no one has ever
made me,
well, i don't know...
i thinkit's the way he looks at me
and i could be deep in thought
or dream, or mental poetry is when i will feel
the way he looks at me
and when i catch his eyes
there is no right word to quite express
so i look
at what i believe is
a demi god and
i swear the intensity
in his eyeshis jaw line....
i love the way he looks at me
and i do think well,
i do believe that when he realizes
I am peaking that-
he loves the way i look at him.

My love departed

My love departed, it has been 6 days
And his eyes don’t seem to be the same
My love departed
From my touch, his words no longer honey
On the ear, no longer savior of my tears
My love departed.

My love departed, and each day I age,
My refection—the hidden Dorian Gray
My lexicon diminished to the only phrase of
My love departed!
it has been 6 days.

And dreams aren’t dreams
They’re ghastly terrors
Horrible reminders
Terrible mirrors!

And dreams aren’t dreams,
They’re lingering ghosts
Unwanted hosts
Of my disaster!

And so I wait in wake in this midnight hour,
For the knock of my dark demonic fowl
To post and quote with his wicked mouth
My misery, my agony, my ache, my woe!

My life departed, it has been 6 days.