Half-Built Towers

So, two new poems.
The first post is very very new, this one dating back to mid-January.
They both come from polar-opposite places, so I guess it's kind of interesting to read them back-to-back.
Ah, men...

Come to my window
and just softly say my name if
you're afraid to see my face.

Send an echoe wrapped in
notebook paper,
a rapping,
a key on a ribbon in the tree
by the bedside window.

Not a trace of hair,
nor blade of grass out of place since
it all smudged off & happened.

I happen to know about
your body,
and that you must think of me in the shoddiest
of hours
(just to the left of that other woman,
and your half-built towers)

So squeeze it off
if it gives you power.
And
cower at each hour
'till your mouth disguises
sweetness with all things
lost & foul.

Tonight
just stand there
by that light,
by the window,
by the tree,
and tell me
then
that you cannot see me.