as you read my poems <br />you imagine what my face would be <br />given said facts and thoughts like <br />the way i spend my nights writing <br />and facing the computer till twilight, <br />i must be thin, and since i have <br />lesser sleep, i must have dark <br />deep, sunken, almond eyes <br /> like the insomniac's night, <br /> my lips may have cracked <br /> due to many coffee cups <br />giving liveliness to my lines, <br />my shoulders may have fallen, <br />due to extreme exhaustion, <br />my skin may have dried and <br />my hair may have been scattered <br />by the strong wind <br />like those poets who no longer <br />care for their health and hygiene. <br /> <br />i am sorry but you are wrong. <br />You have to see me to know me. <br />You have to touch my hand and <br />feel the warmth of my palms. <br />You have to touch my hair to <br />feel the softness of my soul. <br /> <br />i will that poet who orders plain <br />mineral water instead of beer. <br />I may wear a black coat but <br />there will be no white carnations <br />inside the pocket of my chest.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-have-not-met-yet/
