I’m a sucka for long eyelashes,
wishful sighs punctuating long
skyward gazes, endlessly searching
for answers to questions as of yet,
unasked,
thus is my manly melancholy primary
tasked,
or rather,
my hurry up need fix for tender loving
by a man who writes me poems that are  this fem’s,
as in feminine, as in all mine, even down
to the unwrit, declarative dedication that, is powerful
whispered, avec a-graze~touch
upon my cheek,
“I wrote this for you,”

oh gawd, I even love him despite
his horrible pink sneakers…
ugly to almost ning cute…

BC