You picked the day and the mood,
I kept to myself, bashful and ripe.
Then, the stance of the yet unlived,
And screening of the probable sun,
Under the vacant skies, pierced
Front teeth, whitening the distance
To intended ears filled with coarse,
Still familiar, brutal words of love.
Later on, I picked the fights, the sighs,
You entertained the silences and rues.
It was naked poetry, toppled with play
Enough to shake the fruity, scented world.
And when the ink turned air, we signed
For odd, uneasy creatures, one heart short.