To a dear, estranged lover of Rio and the Slavs.

Come down upon me,
Like shafts of broken, Brazilian homes
that once stood on the outskirts of Rio.
In your pieces of rubble,
Will seep a crying soul
Neglected and oppressed for years of this Gregorian system.

And I will gently press my palms into it,
Allowing its tears to cover my frail fingertips.
Would it hurt you my dear, estranged lover,
If I were consumed by the soul you spilled?

Strip me of such material clothing,
And I will be left with only curves and caramel skin.
Pull me into your arms and gently lower me in,
to this puddle of serenity that has broken.

Bathe me gently in your soul,
Drips and cupfuls of such a divine serum.
Pull me up into your arms,
And cover my shivering body.
For enlightenment from another's spirituality
Often comes with hardship and suffering.

Come upon me,
Like the air strikes so common above the Balkans,
and strike me down with your charm.
My dear, estranged, lover,
I may not break in such ways for you.
I will not mend your imperfections.

I intend only to bathe in them,
and become one with your misunderstood existence.