The End.

When I wake up in the middle of the night

Screaming at shadows, dripping with sweat,

I don’t reach out for the lights.
I reach for you.
When I’m counting down the hours until break,
Cursing my job and everything under the sun,
Thinking of lunch doesn’t make me smile,
You do.
And when we lie down, laughing, in the wet grass

So we can close our eyes and wish upon a star,

I’m still smiling at you,
Knowing that my wish came true.
 
You must think I’m pathetic.
God knows I do.
If my teenage self could see me now,
Groveling in dust
Like the flea-infested dog you quickly walk past
At the butcher’s, he’d want to kill himself too.

But this is what you do to me.
You with your blazing eyes and caustic tongue,

The sly, half-smile that gets me every time,
You with your beach-tanned boys and pinstriped men,

The hushed phone calls and playful winks -

Why won’t you smile anymore?
Is it the scars on my shoulder, honey?
Where you put out your cigarettes, one sizzling dot at a time,
Painted purple over days?
  
Love found me in a nightmare once -

Whimpering, shaking, weeping blood,

Love held me in her quicksand arms

And she looked just a little like you.

Not Love.

You think you love me

When all you really love

Is how my smile reminds you
Of the mother you never had.
Her gap-toothed smile

Watching from the picture frames

In your father’s house,
Its dusty hallway empty

Like his heart.

It’s easy to fall in love

With someone who feels like home –

Their breath on your skin

Like the storm against your window.
The light in their eyes

Like fireflies in the dark.
Their voice is music

Because it's not yours.
The blisters on their hands

Are cotton against your palm.

Tell me how you love me
On days you don't love yourself?

A poem for someone SPECIAL

The following poem,penned down by me, is dedicated to an amazing woman I was fortunate enough to be acquainted with.

QUEEN

The air you breathe is refreshing summer breeze
You are the beauty of the willowy pine trees
In the endless whirlpool of your dark eyes I see
The promise of unconditional love,
Stronger than my morning brew of tea

You smile like a blazing fire on a wintry night
Shedding warmth and forever glowing bright
Every sound that passes your lips— that with age are pale—
Will put to shame the music of any nightingale

You glide with the grace of a gentle swan
Yet hasten at times, like a spirited fawn
Of all sweet fragrance, yours is the most,
The smell of rich golden butter, dripping on a Sunday toast

Your greying tresses, flowing like a wave—
Your burning cheeks as you cook by the fireplace—
I remember them all— every sight is dear to me
And as for you, my Queen,
You are as precious as one can ever be.