Let us hold men in our hands
to feel their rough edges between our fingers,
and massages their temper before we misunderstand.
Let us have them sit on balconies of our attention

and call that moment the Vibes,
So their inner voice will speak through cigarettes and not heavy smells of intoxicated pores through thick skins.
Let us speak to them in silence,

since they already know the meaning of that word

but not in the shape and form of poetry.
Let them know that giant cannot crush the rain with bare hands,
or sweep away the river with their lashes.

Let them know that it is ok to empty the soul in front of the universe for all to see,
and release the clog tunnel in their veins.
Let them know that petals bleed when no one is looking,
But birds and butterflies will know.