Sunday, 24 February 2008

• Believe it or not:  I am capable of love. 
  I posed a question from my soul to its outer shell,
  Has my heart been hollowed by helplessness? 
  
  At night, with no hand to hold,
  Where will I be led with no direction? 
  A slight correction,
  I will do the navigating of love's blind curves
  While resisting the urge to follow. 
  
  I am capable of carrying love,
  from infancy to virility. 
  Perhaps it resides in my lips,
  permeating for the unlucky few who manage to kiss them.
  Can they burden the sum of my heart's follies? 
  Moving forward, again.
  
  She tells me I'm perfect
  While her body language shouts something
  Entirely hypocritical. 
  In my fire-some dreams,
  I am flawless, gleaming, equally as sharp. 
  I fill my shallow heart with your opinions,
  Cluster thoughts, spiderweb outlines
  Of grace and God. 
  
  My empty hands can only do so much,
  My lonely lips can only say so much,
  My color can only change so much. 
  You see, I am capable of so much love.
  
  Oh, how I loved, joyously and rightfully. 
  
  A tiny shape concluded my soul,
  In tiny daughter units of smiles,
  To answer the question posed earlier: 
  She is full of every last bit of me,
  Broken down by sections, and believe it or not -
  She's capable of everything and anything.
  
  

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