Which Is Where We Are Now

With a wistful gaze
 you wondered aloud about
how we are living out our movies,
 wearing our masks,
 following our scripts.
Wondered what your mother and father
 and the rest of your team of angels
 might be thinking of you,
 your hair spiritedly disheveled —
 a wild iris accented with streaks of gray —
I thrilled to take in your face,
 suddenly realizing the splotches
 on your cheeks weren’t bad makeup
 but simply your ruddy flesh.
I got lost in your pouty baby lips
 whose pink smudged past your cupid's bow
 — not lipstick, mind you — just a natural blending.
I feasted on your two too cute buckteeth.
 Your outer incisors curved to match the
  bend of your bottom lip.
I drank in your large eyes
 as they peered off into the distance,
 perhaps resting upon some spiritual plane,
 and such assured, adept creases caressed them.
You transformed into some cherubic Hispanic
 version of Marilyn Monroe-cum-Isabella Rossellini.

I, who had witnessed my body
 dissolve into blisters over the years
 and fought tooth and nail for a few more
 in the vain hope of getting it back
 to finally be able to sit at a table with you
  over a cup of coffee
  and share a slice of cake.
 

Announcement:
— Beware —
Fierce beauty is on the loose!

You may come across it on your way to work,
 on a walk,
 on a trip to the grocery store.
No place is safe!

Your neighbor, a coworker,
— even a random stranger —
may be in possession of it.
There is no telling who it might be!

Should you encounter said beauty,
— this is a warning! —
if you drink it in with your eyes
 and allow it into your soul,
 it will eviscerate you,
— I repeat —
complete annihilation of the soul.

Tell-tale symptoms include
a deep, burning sensation that seems to linger forever.

Stay on the lookout!
That is all.

It’s a nice day
 for a latte
 and a wrecking ball
Inner beauty can’t be seen
 but words kill
So powerful
 they cast a spell
 of utter destruction
 inside my chest
What once was buildings
 is now just sky
 with little clouds
 and little birds, chirping

In my youth, I was pretty —
my skin so smooth.
Then I got used —
 stretched out —
I was clingy —
A cover for others' purposes.
Now I’m wrinkled and frumpy
 and no one is interested in me.
At least I fulfilled my destiny.

Love is in my mouth —
 on its roof —
 like a seldom used broiler
 now stuck on.
My breath runs hot —
 like a quiet dragon
 huffing to itself.
Will I ever express
 the burning word? —
 or maybe it is just
  a gentle kiss.