Women in love,
They tuck their men away,
hiding them inside their locket,
Trapping them like a bird cage.
Frozen in picture frames,
You can see their lover’s faces,
tacked to the refrigerator
held down in all the proper places.
But beauty and madness need not be hidden,
save, perhaps, from women.
I wish to be a footnote in your sonnet,
Or simply touch the softest part of your cheek,
I want to drown in the cup of your eyes,
And listen carefully to every song you sing.
Sweetheart, if we ever find it, again,
Let our love be of the cleanest expression,
And the purest of choices.
Let our love be free like birds,
For the one that flies is the one that rejoices.