I am no polished, smooth-skinned, arms extend-
ed beauty. I have no sleek-and-shine, just
too much extra time.

I am no floating candle, light in the window in
the deepest of the deep dark night, hidden by
fabric folds and

I am no different than any other clam, happy though,
I have made no pearl, I have ground no sand.

I am no morning song, sung by bell birds in the
chorus at dawn, no breath of fresh air, I have the same
ideas as you do about most things.

I have not felt
I have not felt
the strain of heart-strings or the popping in my ears
due to the loudness in my own head, no crowd of heavenly
angels singing in the background as my teeth become brighter
because they feel sunshine in the width of my smile. I have
not felt the longing to be near a person for more than an hour,
much less the rest of my life, I can convince myself that it
wasn't what I thought it was, that it was a fluke but then I
remember

"It said 'STOP' but we went on whole-hearted
it ended bad, but I love what we started."

if you had looked

behind my lips, down
my throat like an express - you would have seen pink flowering
beneath folds of conversation, you would have seen a bud
o   p   e   n   i   n   g

(you drink me up
as if I were cheap
boxed wine

swallow me whole &
I sit
warmly
territorially
giddily in your
stomach)

if you had looked,
in the root of the root of
the deep deep down
of me

you would have seen
that I was asking you
to be
mine.

Until I feel this, I won't

I am a raw slab of meat and you are
a bo-na-fide
butcher's knife.

Each cut is at a 45 degree angle, precise, your signature
in the perfection of each placidly placed slice.

No accidental nicks in my hide, just
intentions and too much extra time.

too much
rubbish, like
tight pants around the middle -

suffocating and uncomfy:
much rather walk around in undies.

"Like a black hole, the increasingly
self-absorbed person eventually 
becomes incapable of
mirroring anyone."

- Frank James Davis