Re-visit

Remember that time,
When we went to that cliff
On my birthday.
We stood on the edge..
In each other's arms
Red wine laced
Calm mouth yours.
When it started raining,
Raining hard.
And we didn't run,
We knew we couldn't.
Without much ado,
Both surrendered
To your wit,
And my beauty.
Or to the idea of the two.
Like the shore
In front of us,
Surrendering to the
Violent sea.
Over and over.
Drenched we made our way
Back to your car.
Trying to keep pace,
I tore the dress
I was wearing.
But didn't care,
I knew I couldn't.
All care sank in the
Wide warm smile
you put on my face.
Like cookies drown
When dipped in hot chai.
I still visit that moment on the cliff with you.
But I push you this time.
It soothes me and how.

Remember when you told me,
I wasn't pretty.
Rather I was the most 'easy on the eyes' face in the world.
That I'm an artist
By my sheer existence.
Because my face makes everyone who looks at it,
Happy and full of hope.
And I started crying,
For it was the most beautiful
thing anyone ever said to me.
Also, I was pretty high
that day.anyway.
I wish to go back to that moment,
And set your hair on fire,
As you lean in to
light up your smoke.
I feel happy just picturing.

I want to see you on the other side,

Of pretense, sexual tension and bourgeois.
Where we can just catch up
In a cafe done kitsch
That's not too expensive
And we can split the bill.
We won't have anything to talk about.
Our only common-
cynicism will be evident
Too soon.
Design, films, music, people, 

politics, intrusive parents.
Rants uncool.
Then we'll shut up.
Awkward better.
You'll order coffee and
I'll call for my English breakfast tea.
Snigger all you want,
Won't matter.

Not obligated to talk.
Yet comforted by
Each other's presence.
We'll do what makes us happy.
I can go back to writing my anti-everything poetry 

And you can doodle some post-modern art 

on the tissue you got.
I will ponder sipping tea,
How sometimes I love to forget my thoughts,
Only to desperately search
My head for them a little later.
Because I believe great things should never come easy,
Not even to the creator.
You'll just gawk at my obscene 

absolute lack of modesty.
Then you'll take a nap,
On the biggest couch in the cafe,
It's yellow and teal
For once your dream is real.
I kill you in your dream with my pencil,
But it's not the pain of death you suffer.
It's the irritating sound of blunt lead 
against paper that does it,
I irritate you to death.
I start over happy.
Full closure.
My love.