Once upon a memory you gave me a look.
when your hips seduce my own lips.
In the end of it all accuse me of being me.
What face is this,
What love is this,
When can i have you,
to feel your skin so close,
as close as mine to keep you attached
I love you,
is not enough,
I love you,
is a passing wind
I need to hold you,
how truly. . .
how much. . .
and make you know,
I am and will always.
Smile me a care from your lovely eyes.
Then I know we can come near,
Yet be far as much as possible,
No flesh can render,
No words even to remember,
stick me with your silly banter,
Oh yes. . .
I can be yours,
With that trillion credit smile.
But til this session is over.
An open letter to Lady Demeter,
For I am devoid of your nights subtle winds. And of your hours on end. I am still born to believe in your own field, that I need your shine on me on an empty sky filled with all the glory of constellations near and far beside you.
I am asking nothing, this letter is not for me. Yet I am no ambassador of all humanity, it is an open gesture from me to see your Mother Gaea, to be healed so my daughter can grow to love what nature can offer. She saw you on a night, I know in some delight you saw her smile.
Lay down the mind,
Put the coffee down,
Turn the light off,
Douse the flame
Then you know where and when
Your shame is the blame of it all.
One can be his own divinity of demons that leaves its feathers behind.
What I knew of what hell my mind keeps flaming.
When that heaven of a place I keep, is where I know you are always there,
To love me and be with,
On days on end.