Day 2, Poem 2 Untitled Ghazal attempt



Veins jumping, tendons stretching beneath

glistening sun-kissed hands, working hard



Tears, streaming down her porcelain cheeks,

salty puddles of regret at what she's lost,

gathering at her feet, crying hard



Brows furrowed, glass shatters, bodies shoved,

melee and adrenaline mix with alcohol and bravado. If

you come wit' it, son, you best come hard



Seconds race toward deadlines and sunlight annoys,

splayed across the blank page. Words whiz by rememberance,

teasing, telling you, "Damn, this test is hard."



Lips crash and burn. Eyes smolder and bellies turn. Neck

outstretched for kissing and hands searching warmth

fluttering. Not going where you wanted this to was hard.