Smell Of Sulfur
I have traced the arch of your back
the slender curve of your chin.
I have held your hand. Touched
your strawberry hair and wiped the
snot bubble from your sleeping face.
In the morning nothing was said of
of my strong hands or wet eye lashes.
I wrote you a thousand love poems
but you were too busy to hear even one.
I molded my lines in your shadow and in
hard work, for you, for a freak chance
of heart on heart contact. I am sick
of living in my head -red devil.
Jump out of my mind and stand where
I can smell you.