And Then (Mini-Series. Part 5)

one day I will

fashion the words that

will make this love

tangible.

write the poem

that will

finally

give my pain

a purpose,

and

A hope to hold me;

making me brave enough

to wait for you.

Haiku #4672

women silently

giving birth to corpses. Who

will speak for the dead?

"Tommy,...You Ain't Got No Job Maynnnn!!" (Haiku)

worse than laziness:
disguising idleness or
work without progress.

Stick-Up. (Mini-Series. Part 4)

I came to you:
Level-headed and
Whole-heartedly
With
Flawless diamonds hidden behind my eyes,
and
a pure, expectant smile.

But,
you took what didn't belong to you.
And I want them all back,

you Thief.

Left-Out for Leftovers

I’m the girl made for
Second thoughts,
Lukewarm hand-me-down gestures,
And affections in the form of
His leftovers.

Figured I would be first in line
For
His fondness;
Yet I see that
My place had the stability
Of quicksand.

The [intimate] nickname I displayed proudly
Was not gold-plated or permanently mounted high,
Rather,
One of those thin, interchangeable
Plastic tags that can be switched
With another,
When there’s an adjustment in personnel.

I certainly have my pride.
So, I will quietly gather
What rightfully belongs to me
And love myself,
From now on…

Back to the Future

I wish to accelerate time
Defy natural law
Fast forward
To the moment where you
Love me better.
Wistfully you realize
That your Present Self is
In need of the Future You
A Prospect
In your former skin.
A Prototype
Of your future self.

You.
Powerless to give
And
Incapable of containing
Me.
Lacked essence
Meanwhile I spend mine into a void interdependence.
Loving the Idea of You.
I’m
Miserly with Moments
Courted by Glimpses
&
Wooed by Potential.

You are left dazed
By my excess
And ashamed
By your lack.
Quick trips to a hidden reservoir
Leaving me behind to
Maintain our Masquerade.

But I shall wait
Here.
Denying the traces of them
Who pale in comparison
To the You
That returns.

Patience. (Mini-Series. Part 2)

peculiar. it is.
while you
drift from
fear to love's folly,
and
one beautiful possibility
to another,
I.
stand next to you,
frozen in a solitary
teardrop,
and wait for you
to notice that it's
me
[holding your hand].

Dry Eyes (Mini-Series. Part 1)

I have stared at you
for so long,
my eyes are
beginning to tire.

They are dry from
focus.
And I am afraid
that if I
blink,
I will miss...
...something.

But I cannot keep this up
for much longer.

Please,
love

...look my way.