Shallow

I miss you: the unique tone of your words,
the high and low notes of your voice,
the way you hold your wine glass
- how I adore your rough, handsome fingers! -
the shape of your smile,
the way your shoulder blades stick out,
the angle of your hips,
the length from the bottom to the tip,
and
the subtle sadness in your eyes
when I place my lips on you,
dance my fingers around you,
feel the furthest point of your body
under my tongue, leaning
against the back of my throat, and then
your hardness fall between my softness,
as my flow of life blends into yours.

Yet my memories, my deepest ones,
started one early morning
when you said hello to me,
when you were so gentle,
when you were still the unknown,
but somehow,
closer to my heart than you are now.
The more we know about each other
the further apart we get, even though
we have become more casually comfortable
with each other’s presence, the growing intensity
of my emotions,
the endless, exhausting questions
from the part of me
that longs for what we cannot be
together.

Irreverence

Breathe, breathe very calmly my dear,
and let me
take you slowly
into my world. Do not be afraid
of the unknown, the possibility
of stellar discovery, the risk
of being lost completely.
I am here, I want you
to be with me, I know
your fear.

But look at me, I am
right in front of your eyes,
trust what you
feel, the air
around us, the tension
of your clinging trust, the pulse
defining your blood,
the veins
so eager to burst
under the touch of your fingers.

I remember.
I will remember
as you go further, my happiness
as I slowly lose my mind,
my guilt, my sight,
and my words start to jumble
as you moan louder. You say
something I cannot hear,
but it does not matter, for I can tell
from the way the sweat runs down your forehead
how much you are in love with me.

When I slither down your spine
on the tip of my tongue,
I no longer see you, only your warmth
surrounding my face,
and I want to dig my teeth
deep into you, inject you
with the venom of my lust,
so you know how badly it hurts
to have this much desire
for you.

I try to wait for you,
but my ecstasy erupts
before my will. I am drown
in a frozen stretch of pleasure.
Until I see
you have been looking at me
with tears running down your cheek.
I do not understand that emotion
exuding from your eyes.
And I ask you, “What is it?”
but I cannot hear your answer.

Nonetheless, I have to clean myself,
come back, get dressed,
and tell you “I gotta go.”
You nod. Say not a word.
I ask you again, “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head.
I get irritated,
so I ask no more. Then I put on my shoes,
fix my shirt collar, and walk out
of your world.

Night

sometimes I feel my words falling off me one by one and I cannot catch them and I can only watch them

like that rainfall that
cannot be stopped
over the roof of my apartment

and I get lost in
the growing absence of you
it consumes me

I keep
reaching out my hands
only to see fingers hanging in the air

you’ve never held them

I wish I could dream up the warmth of skin
but my imagination has its limits
I feel helpless in my crippled poetry

you are already forgetting me
and I, not sure what to do with my dying love for you,
get up around 3 a.m.
and make myself
a cup of hot milk

there is no tomorrow
only here, this warm whiteness,
sip by sip

the night drips
out of my eye sockets
contaminating my milk

Fixation

I imagine there’s a kind of love
in which you can’t let me live
because you love me too much.

Because you think
death could freeze time.
Because you see
nothing else could stop time
but death.

You want my memories of you
fixated
at the moment where things are still good
before I could watch you
being consumed by your monster.

The First Sweet Rain of A Rain Chaser

Rain chasers,
how I’ve known them.

They smell rain from a far distance,
watch the clouds in precise anticipation,
catch the first drop and raise to their lips,
and it either turns sour or sweet.

When they know the rain will go foul,
they tell themselves to make another round,
to seek more rain, more rain, and more rain,
until they lose their conscience and become vain.

When they know the rain will be sweet,
they do their best to hold on to it,
knowing it will not stay forever,
but rain chasers despise the laws of nature.

Once I joined their force and began the game,
and I found my first sweet of rain.
I tried to preserve it, like all the chasers,
then it was gone, like sweet rain always was.

Many raindrops have touched my lips ever since that day.
Some sweet, some sour, yet they never stayed.
And somehow it is still quite hard to forget
how I felt after that one left.

For My Poet

What comes first:

Love or Poetry?

Poetic Animals

It was a freezing November night,
one in which sins melted into life,
when he lay down by my eyes,
whispered to my neck,
are you ready to write?

I thought he said die, which was the same to me.
We pushed the world away and let ourselves be
poetic animals that had found the perfect mates.
And all night long
we made poetry.

Voice of My Dream

Come, as the night is not here for long,
and I shall vanish in the morning,
shall forget all with the parting of my eyelids.

I will stay with you for as long as you still remember me.
And in your mind, this all makes perfect sense
no matter how twisted it appears.

Love surpasses all imperfections
including your gullible logic.

We should go
deep into the forest and sea
of unreal colors,
where you and I would be together forever
until the sun comes up.