A thousand yearnings

The snow has found us once again,

Setting down it's ghostly countenance as a silent wayfarer.

Tiny flakes gather on the backs and ears of my nighttime visitors,

Long legs holding trim bellies above deep snow.

A knowing calm hides their distress,

As the night conceals a thousand yearnings, theirs and mine.

'My Serial Lover'

I say she's fat in all the right places
My best fake honesty gets me in trouble every time
She finds it sweet
But then it's too late.

She's buying me drapes and underwear
Telling me what's cute and what's disgusting
Giving me nicknames
Naming my plants, my fish, it.

Scented candles show up in strange places
Things begin to disappear, like
Pictures of my friends, my magazines,
Notes with girl's phone numbers on them.

Her fav albums shuffle to the top
Cans of designer paint start showing up
A drawer is taken over by toys
I feel like one of them.

New bedding, as it's called, appears
Yogurt now resides in my fridge
The guys stop dropping by, at the scent of
Fake honesty in the clutches of my serial lover