The last time I fell in love was on top of a sunset
I left you in Fort Green diluting your emotions in
A jar of shea butter
You’re shirtless again
Ebony tinted skin polished with beauty
I see this magical landscape
It makes me want to die in your arms
Like Gone with the wind
I will never go hungry again
You’re the national treasure of my soul
I’m on top of your sunset
Watching you swim the modest waterways
Your name unpredictable to many
I catch your shiny star to show support
A woman who loves stands by her man no matter what the cost
Intense is this love
Your sculpture enhances an azure sky with sleeping dragons
You run fingers through my short hair
I am your dawn
Your camelback ride to paradise
Your tropical smoothie
The mineral oil that boost your unruly locks
We run together towards the sunset
You’re not afraid to stand next to me
It seems natural
Such a magical place
Remember the Good Times?
Even the moments we skipped breakfast
Our bellies full of love
No probiotic needed
Just the fragrance of guava and cocoa butter
You leave birthmarks on the sand
My name written with your footprints
You want me to practice my French
That way I call your name when the sun sets
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

9/24/09

Today was a good day. The sun was out and I was able to go for a nature walk. I treated myself at Barnes and Nobles, bought a journal, a vegeterian cooking book and poetry book by Nikki Giovanni. I was anxious, couldn't wait to get home to digest the poetry book and to write on my new journal. Expressing my thoughts is the best remedy, especially when you're dealing with an illness. Lately, i've been writing my little heart off with many poems...can't wait to work on the next book, it's about that time. In the evening, my mother came home and I showed her the cooking book, she fell in love with it and i suggested we try a new dish. We sure did. I chose to make asparagus soup...it was delish, thick, hot and flavorful. Mom loves to cook, so it was easy to convince to try something new for the palate.

SCARS

Check for scars
For bruises hidden beneath your thighs
Unfold the secret garden of your tongue
With east coast stories of subway rides
One metro card will lead you to a potential mate
That makes you salivate
Remember
Scars won’t disappear on their own
They’re reminders of past mistakes
Created with your heart
While you run helpless without any resources
In a stranger’s bosom
Where you expect eternal bliss
The wakeup call is usually apparent
You pretend not to notice the scars
Still lingering on your back and chest
You want them to disappear with your notepad in hand
The use of dental floss to scrape off guilt, lies, pain
Entangled with Sunday confessions
You will never heal with prayer alone
It remains to be seen
The rust you left behind in your mother’s womb
Is an investment
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu Writings