When you shivered in that restroom we used to share.
I gave you my shirt to crease, I crossed my arms around your waist.
And we dreamt of a better place.... I was always colder.
When you approached those men in the streets, off your face.
I wished their vile stares away, I took you by your shaky hand.
And I'd spent my last pound....
So we slept in that shelter?
Do you remember?
When we went away, and walked the moonlit shore,we got sand between our toes,and we made love in the hotel room,you snored softly in the silence....I told you I loved you?
When you never came home that night after we argued, I even phoned your mothers place, and searched the drunken streets.
You left that ring I gave you on the sheets.... I kept the receipt.
Do you remember when I loved you?
I don't remember when you loved...
~~~~~=== www.smsxx.blogspot.com ===~~~~
It is not, Monsignore,
The fragrant memory of your holy life,
Nor that of your shining and joyous martyrdom,
Which causes me now to address you.
But since this is your august festival, Monsignore,
It seems appropriate to me to state
According to a venerable and agreeable custom,
That I love a beautiful lady.
Her eyes, Monsignore,
Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflections
On everything that she looks at,
Such as a wall
Or the moon
Or my heart.
It is like the light coming through blue stained glass,
Yet not quite like it,
For the blueness is not transparent,
Only translucent.
Her soul's light shines through,
But her soul cannot be seen.
It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, infantile, wise
And noble.
She wears, Monsignore, a blue garment,
Made in the manner of the Japanese.
It is very blue-
I think that her eyes have made it more blue,
Sweetly staining it
As the pressure of her body has graciously given it form.
Loving her, Monsignore,
I love all her attributes;
But I believe
That even if I did not love her
I would love the blueness of her eyes,
And her blue garment, made in the manner of the Japanese.
~~~~~=== www.smsxx.blogspot.com ===~~~~
Monsignore,
I have never before troubled you with a request.
The saints whose ears I chiefly worry with my pleas
are the most exquisite and maternal Brigid,
Gallant Saint Stephen, who puts fire in my blood,
And your brother bishop, my patron,
The generous and jovial Saint Nicholas of Bari.
But, of your courtesy, Monsignore,
Do me this favour:
When you this morning make your way
To the Ivory Throne that bursts into bloom with roses
because of her who sits upon it,
When you come to pay your devoir to Our Lady,
I beg you, say to her:
"Madame, a poor poet, one of your singing servants yet on earth,
Has asked me to say that at this moment he is especially grateful to you
For wearing a blue gown".
~~~~~=== www.smsxx.blogspot.com ===~~~~
On this day made just for lovers
something weighs heavily on my mind
yet still I have to question
Will you be my valentine?
There will be no roses delivered
no chocolates that taste divine
yet none of that matters to me
Will you be my valentine?
There will be no jewelry received from you
to me that suits me just fine
all I want from you is your heart
Will you be my valentine?
On this day made just for lovers
you’ll give me your heart,
I’ll give you mine
yet still I have to question
Will you be my valentine?
~~~~~=== www.smsxx.blogspot.com ===~~~~
Will you be my Valentine?
I know that I am yours.
You are like a ocean,
And I am like your shores.
You are like an endless wave
And I your waiting sand.
And I will wait forever as
You come & smooth my hand.
I will wait forever,
Yet You are a part of me.
I hold you in my arms,
While you Come to me endlessly.
Will you be my Valentine?
I know that I am yours.
I love you with a love that yearns
To be your golden shores.
~~~~~=== www.smsxx.blogspot.com ===~~~~
Be my Valentine:
What does that mean?
Each of us must walk through life alone,
More deeply desolate than we have known,
Yearning for a truth we’ve never seen.
Valentines are from beyond that dream,
Are like a sunrise on a world of stone.
Little on this journey can we own
Except as miracles might intervene.
No way but through loving might we give
The freedom of our being to another.
In such a sacrifice we hope to live
No longer bound by dreams of flesh and bone,
Even as we bind our lives together.
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