Two weeks ago
I started a poem...

"I'm so tired of performing
in the pageantry of vanity...

His voice
is a siren's song...

He plucks
at my heart strings...

Our agendas were written by two different hands,
in two different languages...

The sun fell through
the wires of a dream catcher...

In ways,
I imagined love to be a furious ocean...

We are not like
two ships passing...

"I couldn't string a sentence
together to bother her...

He came
as an unexpected breeze...

Surrender your skin,
fray the frail dermal wires...

I sit on the lip
of your headboard...