She’s a Woman to Me

It’s the way she smells,

like fresh flowers, like soapy bubbles on a green garden,

like sweet strawberries.

It’s her eyes,

how they sparkle, how they allow me access to everything else,

how they me a story.

It’s the hair,

how it covers my face, and smells like a bouquet,

how I long to pull it,

hard enough that her neck bends.

It’s how she’s a woman to me,


She’s soft,

she whispers in my ear,

she licks my neck,

she giggles,

It is how she holds my hand, like she is never going to see me again,

It is how she wants me.


She wants me, more than anything else,

she buries me in significance,

so deep I can’t find my way out,

I don’t want to find my way out.

It is how I feel wanted by her,

it is how she’s a woman with me,




This is the idea of her,

She’s way more,

She’s scarily way more,

She’s fading.




Late Night Stalker

I watch you sleep. Forget the romantic connotations to that, I just like watching you, sleep. I’ve had my eye, well eyes on you for quite some time now. It brings me some kind of peace.

Your curtains dance to the changing wind directions from your beaten down ceiling fan. They shimmer in some reflecting light either from the moon or some other distant source. I’m not sure. It’s some violet color, purplish, faded and the material seems so smooth, it’s like silk or some other magical material fit for your sleepy times. Shadows fill your room, one of them belonging to me.

I swear some music was playing. But from where? This shade of purple midnight light has covered you as well. You sleep with the blanket kicked to the corner, your legs showing. I can tell you were feeling cold, sometimes reaching out for the blanket but never finding it.

Your long hair is everywhere. It covers half of your face, the other half exposed for the world and me. You look like you are participating in some deep conversation in a dream while you sleep. You look like in deep thought. Needless to say you looked incredibly alluring.

I continue to watch you from this safe haven I find myself at. I found the right angle. Your dancing curtains are kind to me this night, often obstructing the view of you, but never completely.

I don’t know you. I don’t know if I should, because right now you are perfect. Right now you are the love of my life and the highlight of my nights.

I’m cold. I wonder if you are too. I wonder if I knocked on your window would you take me in and warm me up with those hands and legs. I wonder if you are a kind soul. I wonder if you would kick a dog in the street or give it food instead. What makes a person tolerable?

How amazing that you play this immense part of my life and yet are so irrelevant to me. And here’s the kicker, you have no idea, still after all this time that your nights and sleep, are more than what it seems to be. Sleep is often taken for granted as a routine and necessity, and nothing else.

Well not to me. Stalker.