Monalisa Lost

sleepless eyes-
gloomy days
broken marriage
loveless sky
man or woman

lackluster forehead-
decrepit hair

absurd clothes-
ordinary breasts
fright overweight

delusional da Vinci

just sex

screaming night of-
seductive skin
bewitching lips
raptured waves
aroused figments
surged oxytocin
withdrawal effects
vulnerable ego
inflated promises
confused twilight
decadent tomorrow
lingering pink
fragile sex
just statistics

Living

I met her in a whirlwind of romance.
Smile was her veil of hurt,
evening fire was her lips,
tumult was her freckled face.
Free but reckless passion assured her,
almost numb, almost divine!
Her soul was glorified by my flesh
and others'.
Again and again.
Then came love, doubt!
There, she created music of eternity
from memory of tears and decay.
She was the darkest and the kindest-
a saint and a whore; an oscillation!
She died once at the alter of
a million rules of a few men.
Not anymore,
slow redemption of a benevolent slut.
She is living.

Weeping Milky Way

It was an agile September night in Southern Utah.
Heaven showered twinkling lights on her.
When shooting stars flew everywhere,
I watched a fire consuming her history.
Happiness flourished amid cacophony of crickets;
I heard loud illusions but she listened to the hope.
We burnt throughout the red mountains and desert-
I was blue and she was pink.
Tears fell upon the Milky way at the dead of the night.
She whispered, "the brightest road is our dreams."
Ah, we are fading fast into asymmetry now!

Gone

She was here,
then gone.
Her mama's empty arms,
now, barren sky.
I wonder if she is-
on the mountaintop,
on dusty crystals,
in purple flames,
in summer rain,
in spring blossoms.
Eyes were bright;
smile was courage.

She is right here
and everywhere. 

Dancing Flower of Summer

Midnight storm fell upon our fossils,
a wild fire then engulfed the darkness.
I was simmering around-
my lover's lips and breasts,
silver rings on her belly button,
red and black tattoos on curves,
dancing flower of summer.
We heard an hour long symphony-
of sound, smell and shadows;
of touch, shiver and goosebumps;
of fast breath and delicate pain.
Sudden cries,
that must be her sob for my glory.
Often, perfumed hair were on my face.
The loudest noise was our happiness.
In the end, we were quiet;
perhaps, contemplating a renewed desire.

To Katyusha

I saw her on my way to heaven.
I asked her if she would walk across-
sand dunes, arches and elusive skies.
Her reply was a silent smile.
I asked if
she would paint her silence on a snowstorm.
Instead, she painted faded wind in purple cloud.
I asked if
she would paint her smile on a starry night.
Instead, she painted murmur of an orgasm.
May be I was hallucinating.
May be I was in love.