A Strange PhraseI am stillA Strange Phrase
getting used to these words,
And the way that
they have come
to roll off my tongue
with incredible ease;
And I still can’t believe how my ears have become
accustomed to hearing
them from you;
But I really quite enjoy Saying ‘I love you.’
Getting Used to YouI never thought that I could be as comfortable as I am with you.Getting Used to You
Even when you’ve got me uncovered and uncensored and just acting as myself, I feel I’ve found my place, and I still feel more than safe.
I would never dream of hiding myself from you. and I swear this to be true: I wish to uncover every part of you.
And yes at times it scares me, that I could mean so much; but I think it may just take some getting used to.
I’m enjoying getting used to you.
It's Time for MoreI don’t want a maybe, an I don’t know or a one-day-soon. I don’t want just the thought of it, an it sounds nice but -- you’re not sure.It's Time for More
I do not want more empty words, or mere thirds of
the experience. I want more than temptation, obligation, contemplation and frustration.
I want undoubting Yes or no, a mind made up, a stay or go.
Give me sincerity
And clarity; I want honesty, fidelity, and morality.
I want a true reality.
Truth in th
If it Comforts You to KnowI do not expect you to understand these words or why I feel the need to jot my thought, continually, on Post-it notes and envelopes and diaries that you are forbidden to see or read.If it Comforts You to Know
But if you wish to see me bleed and feel the need to explore my wounds, I will stand aside.
Although, in time I would have let you know of every blow that has been pressed into these sheets.
Under the Fig TreeYou there child, why do you cry and cry so loud?Under the Fig Tree
Damp with amber shadows, fingers tightly balled,
Here under the fig tree, beneath the evening cloud.
Come, come. Is it the sparrow that has not called
that quakes your heart, makes you sick with tears, damp with amber shadows, fingers tightly balled?
Ah, what did you say? Their jeers? It’s their jeers about that flowerless fig tree standing silent that quakes your heart, makes you sick with tears?
Well let me, child, let me cure this ailment.
Here’s a secret for yo
NahlaI look for you in the expressions of silly little girls or deep in the windings of their tangled hair- black, of course. And when Spring arrives, yellow buses become fat with the howls of children. Some of them bounce off at stops, and I wait for one to be you as if my wishes were fashioned into stones and skipped heedlessly beyond the grasp of God. Every unbounded shoulder of Sun will no doubt bring ample interim.Nahla
Last night, the moonlight swept across your mother's face as I watched her sleep. I think I met you there by the curve of her lips. &
Miss Understanding New Vocabulary
Sweet
--
----
I'm not going to ask you to,
but it would be nice,
if my gallery had visit from you.
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