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Poem
I love to watch the sun rise,
the way its tangerine colored
rays pierce the
metallic grey sky and
how they dance playfully on
the waters edge. As its face peers
Out from its hiding spot
It reminds me of everything
Beautiful I’ve ever known, like
My mother’s smile, infants
Being born, like fresh ink
On a piece of paper.
Words have not been invented yet
To describe the sight of
Sunrise.

One has not truly lived
Until having heard the
sound of violins
Something so sweet and
Seductive has no
Business being compared
To anything less beautiful
If all the emotions in the
World were an instrument
It would be a violin
Nothing graces my eardrums
And the atmosphere
Like the peaceful, poetic whisper
Of a violin

I love the smell of love in
The morning. I didn’t know love
Had a smell but then again
Who really knows what love is
What it looks like
Sounds like
Smells like
Tastes like or feels like.
Love smells like when
We make love, it’s like a Picasso
Being made, I can smell the
Fresh paint on the canvas
It’s literally poetry in motion
Her breath is endless as her spoken word
Coerces me to do things I know
I want to.
Her scent is so intoxicating
And from that day forth my nostrils
Could no longer recognize anything
Else.

If nothing else is heaven-sent it
will always be the taste of chocolate
It’s decadence needs no
Compliment. The taste reminds
Me of every women Ive ever loved
Good and bad for me at
The same time. The moment
My tongue became acquainted
With this piece of heaven
It’s like it became me
It didn’t melt in my mouth it transformed
Into the shape of it and has never
Left since

The best feeling in the world
Is the feeling of bare skin
Against the bed sheets the morning
After we made love. 
And we made love like the world
was ending so we hold
one another
Like we died in each other’s
Arms the night before
And nothing else mattered
but this feeling
In this moment in time
And I never wanted to leave
So I stayed there kissing your
Forehead, you taking my
Hand in yours as if it were
The last thing you’d ever touch
Even when our bones become
Playthings of the wind
I hope that a museum will
Keep a fossil of our figure
So that others may enjoy this
Moment in time forever.
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