The oak tree sheds its leaves like it never knew them.
The clouds spit the rain as though disgusted by its very taste.
And yet the sun says a glowing ‘goodbye’ to the land,
Knowing she shall return with a warm kiss in the morning.
The moon kisses the night with his soft silvery breath.
The stars watch in awe every night and wish they had half an ounce of his majesty
And command of the oceans at night.
You leave me every morning craving your warmth.
I lie awake in the bed hoping your cologne lingers and
Permeates my very soul and anoints all my treasures that you have touched.
I don’t want to forget your scent, so my pillow becomes you…
Just for a brief moment.
Maybe that way, a silhouette of your soul will stay with me.
The shuffle of your feet sounds like the last whisper of a lover
Who is going to war never to return.
And with that I cling to my bed sheets for dear life and
I dampen them with my salty teardrops that preserve the moments of
Relived human-kindness embroidered into my very soul.
You see, every time you leave, I keep a redemptive piece of your humanness
To store in my jar of love yet to be requited.
I know that deep down somewhere beneath all your raw lust is a twinkle of care
That keeps you coming back for who I really am and not just your desire to explore the nether side of my equator.
So next time I unchain the door to let you in,
I silently pray that link by link,
I unchain what is left of your loving heart.
Look me in the eye as though you lost a lucky coin in there
And see nothing more than a treasure
deep in the Mohorovicic discontinuity of my very secret soul.
I am skin tough,
Human to the core
…and not your masturbation vessel.
Frank Malaba © 2013