Poverty

Poverty love is the most romantic.

He had nothing and because of 

that he gave his love.

For him this saying holds no truth,

“You are rich, yet you want to

be loved as if you are poor.”

For him, he was poor but loved as

if he knew no hunger;

as if he knew no poverty.

Countless hours, for days we were never granted,

were spent chatting.

Caressing the thought of time stopping and staying

for a day or two in each others arms.

Kissing away our doubts as the day 

came too quickly to an end;

As darkness quickly surrounded us.

I was reminded that he was poor.

That his love, molded by poverty came at a price.

Because for him to maintain the little

he has he must work;

He must earn in order to sustain.

But did I need his money?

No.

His money met nothing to me for his love 

was the sweetest I ever tasted.

The love of a poor man was 
indeed my greatest riches.

(inspired by the film “Queen of Hearts”)

Naked

They stand in the white room,
with bright lights,
with bright eyes.
His mind exposed and
her clothes off.

They look into each other.
Raw.
Just raw is how they are.

Words are pointless,
so they don't speak.

She walks up to him,
steadily.
Like a dementor, she breathes
his breathe.
Making him weak,
making him fall to his knees
for her.

Inches from her feet
he falls and yet
he still does not touch.

Almost discovered,
she jumps back.
He stands up.

He looks at her.
He truly looks at her.

He sees the marks on her body.
The imprint of the bra strap.
The prickly hair trying to grow back.
Her multicolored flesh.
The contours of her body.
The shape of her lips.
The movement of her hair.
Her desire to be touched,
yet his hands remain to himself.

They stand in front of each
other once more.

Their hands,
inches away from
each other's heart.

Ba-boom! Ba-boom! Ba-boom!
They feel the pulsation.

Overwhelmed by the sinsation.

Eyes opened.
Hearts opened.
Their hands touch for a moment.

Their backs turned,
they walk away from each other
exposed.

The Greatest Love Story/ Worst Poem Ever

The Greatest Love Story
is a tale few people know,

because it involves a concept
people are reluctant to discuss,
death.

To love is to live but
while living you're also dying
and while dying you
are also living.

So to enjoy love
one must also have a
soft spot for death.

Are not the stories of
Romeo and Juliet, Jack and Rose,
Sam and Ann, Edward and Bella,
narratives that cause us to
wipe our tears and yearn
for someone to love and be loved by.

But are they not narratives
embedded in the tragedy
that is death?
Do these characters
not reflect loss?

They lost themselves
and in doing so gained
a love only a few
people know.

The Greatest Love Story
is a tale but a tale
worth telling.

Because to love is to live
and as one begins
to live they see no
fear in the loss.

Ambiguity

Never truly defined,
I stand in line.

Doubting my presence,
criticizing my essence,
slowly composing my message
as I wait.

Wait for those in my front
and my behind
to tell me I am
just a mime.

I mimic what they are
and never truly know me,
so I am always their
ambiguity.

They say I'm
neither here nor there.
Either this or that
and because of my indefiniteness,
in my box I will be forever
trapped.

But seeing that
there's more to me,
I step out of line and preach.

I preach to my future and my past
that today marks a new day
in which I begin to see
that I am no longer marked
by my uncertainty.

I say to them,
I finally know myself.
I know I am a preaching soul
with clipped wings.
That although content,
my heart still desires
material things.
That while a stranger,
I'm still part of the
in crowd.
And that although quiet,
my voice is still loud.

The line moved.
People staring as
I wait for their reply.

The only sound to be heard
with the shuffle were
deep sighs.

They said,
"Young blood, go back in
that line. Go stand
where you belong
because the words you
preach, is no man's
song.

You can 't change our
interpretation because
it is painted with obscurity,
so you will continue to
remain the chosen
ambiguity.

Now come to this window
with your card out and
let your indefiniteness
be marked.

And begin to understand that
you're in no man's land
and learn to embrace
your part."

Sadden by my failure
with the card in my hand,
I step outside to breathe.

Nothing surrounded  me
except
the swaying trees.
And so I looked up
for I needed to pray.

As I saw the blue sky,
my pain now prevalent
turnt my world an ugly grey.

The rain came hard,
making puddles
all around.
In moments,
I dropped my card
to the ground.

But not knowing
what's right for me,
I reach for my card
and in the puddles
I could see.

I could see my crown
staring back at me,
my doubt as well
as my uncertainty.

And as the rain continued,
now clouding my sight,
I sadly waved to my
ambiguity.

The Light

The fiery light

Dances in the glass.

The movements it

Illustrates is seen as crass.

The fiery light

Emanates from the wick

What it absorbs.

Its movement has

Now become a

Flick, flick, flick.

The fiery light

Has now achieved piece.

No longer it dances.

No longer it moves.

The light has found

Its rhythm in the night,

The light is

Now still.

No Tears Shall Fall

You’ve been forced to
Love a woman
Where enough is
Never enough.

Don’t be upset.

Her time will come
When one love
Will be the only love;
When the once wandering
Eyes will only be wondering
About you.

Don’t be upset.

Your love was
Never in vain
Because love is
Never in vain.

You’ve been forced to
Love me, a woman, where
Enough is never enough.

But I’m here to
Say that your
Work was not
In vain.

So before
I walk away
I would just like to say
‘Thank you for all
You have done.’

Sorrowful Song

My sorrowful song, “Someone Like You”

Pierced my ears with a pounding passion.

When heard, I would cry

While cradling my crippled soul

In the comfort of my down comforter.

When heard, I would relive

The relic of our romance as

Each kiss robbed us of our sanity.

When heard, I would think.

Think of the thoughts we once thought.

Of the troubles we would once face

While we willfully waited with open hearts

For time to tell our transformed infatuation

That it no longer ticks for us.

When heard, I knew.
Knew that we were gone.

Our gullible hearts once again

Gobbled up our reality.

Now, the howling hour has been hushed;

we are done.

The song that once strung

My soul, “Someone Like You”

No longer wraps my

Once withering heart.