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She Is Not You

She is not you,
her asymmetrical coy smile
no match for the gleaming perfection on your face,
and when I stare into her eyes,
I see a wounded soul
your unfathomable eyes always held mysteries
and I lost myself knowing their stories.

She is not you;
you are diamond,
you captivate my eyes,
she is coal,
she stains my soul.

She's not you,
sometimes when I kiss her,
our heads bump,
her nose gets in the way,
we are relearning the basics
and laughing at ourselves.

With you it was natural,
everything came easy,
maybe that's why we didn't try enough.

She is not you;
Our bodies do not jigsaw perfect fit,
we are two rough rocks weathering away to smoothness.
I fear we'll burst in flames from the frantic friction
before we are through knowing each other...

but the heat is nice.

She's not you,
but that is not such a bad thing.

*****March 10, 2014*****

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Bedtime Epiphany of a Pining Heart

I contemplated
On things that were and were not,
On why
Light retracts different, in your eyes,
Like rainbows randomly ricocheting
Off my intangible thoughts,

On why,
Words sound different, on your lips,
How you laugh,
How the sounds take a path,
Across infinite dreams,
Into all my incarnations,
Into all my iterations,
Into all...

I concluded
You are a figment
of my imagination,
You must be...

God is not so cruel
That he made a Heaven like you
Then condemned me
To the Hell of perpetual longing
Wanting, and never belonging...

*****September 14, 2016*****

God is My Barber

The sickness that made the Vulture bald
would have killed the Crow.

It is because
the gods are petty
and would not be questioned
about who they show favor to,
That Crows live to,
Squawk hysterically
At Vultures' misfortune.

We have come to understand, that,
when a petty god is your barber,
Crows, who can't afford a razor,
with their benevolent destinies,
will punctuate our precious peace
with their shameless snickering.

the Vulture
pays any mind
wages a war of words
with mockers and scoffers;
for the cure for baldness
is not found in the laughter of Crows...

*****April 4, 2017*****
My Second poem about Vultures. I really need to stop this...😂😂😂

The Vulture

In times of famine,
The Vulture does not eat grass.
When Leopards are lean
because antelopes nowhere to be seen
The Vulture sits and watches,

Those who mocked his baldness
Will do well to remember
None has seen the Vulture's corpse
And he is secure in the knowledge that none will.

when it rains
And they mock him
For having no nest still,
He holds his peace,
For the Vulture, he's a patient animal.

The Vulture is not vindictive,
Those who mocked will die,
Those who didn't will die,
It matters not.
For when carcasses lay ripe
The Vulture does not ask
If his feast was once friend or foe

*****February 1, 2016*****