Freezing

 I got the chills
a fevere dream where no matter how warmly you dress
your arms and legs feel bitterly cold, so cold you can't sleep

I felt frozen.
I didn't think I had an temperature...

moments like this are when you realize that you
are never as prepared as you think you are
can't find a thermometer even though you know
she had one, can't find the blood pressure cuffs
even though you know you had two.

Fear creeps in,
So far I have escaped CoVid and the Flu
So far I have avoided the other clandestine
illnesses my kin and neighbors have had to survive
I prayed to the God I am not sure I believe in
anymore

I write of women I will never meet

 I write of women I will never meet, I sing to their beauty of so sweet. Without them there in my mind I am incomplete, I write of women I will never meet.

I dream of things locked inside my head. I cry for those I know are dead, their ghosts haunt my nights like memories I want to forget instead since I dream dreams locked inside my head.

Her skin is ebony or amber light, her touch is soft/hard in the still of the night, her hair is thick thin it is my delight, she's almost in focus yet still out of sight

Her voice trickles down into my ears
her songs is tempting lasting so many
years, she is the composite of all my fears
I long for her embrace and her tears.

I write of women I will never meet,
I compose rhymes that will lay at their
feet, Without them in my lines I am
devoid as a blank paper sheet, my ink
dried, tears cried for the women I will
never meet.

She, in my Mysterious Ways

 

I tell her that I love her
in all the mysterious ways
this is what I will do on mostly sunny days...
I will tell her she means the world to me, when the truth is that she means more than reality. 
I would tell her that she's a photograph I found on the internet, but I want to to feel that she is still there for me and that hasn't actually happened yet.

She tells me that I should find someone else because she isn't the one for me.
I will laugh at this because it is true and that then realize I don't want to be set free
She mentions meeting my mother and for the first time in a long time, I can safely say it can no longer happen- Mom's death no longer brings grief, which I have to say is sublime

It is sublime,
It is sublime,

I will tell her that I love her
in all my mysterious ways
She will laugh at me mostly on cloudy days

I will swear that there is no other place
I long to be. She will try to explain that it
is as much true for her as it is the same to me.
We're in my studio on yet another rainy day
I am trying to give her dimensions, whilst
she smiles coyly at me from the shadows of
my LCD display.

She mentions that I should call my brother
as if she understands that we talk now since
we both have lost our mother, I tell her I will call
him tomorrow or the next day, I just want to stay here
with her photograph as I think of words to put on
my first book cover.
She asks me what is it like to have a lover, as if I
had the time, time to find such a tangible insubstantial
relationship then that, too would be sublime

It would be sublime-
It would be sublime.