Friday, June 13, 2014

I want to run in the rain with you.

Take my hand, lead me laughing into the black monsoon, through the crossroads and down the hill without losing our grip once.  Blink back those rain drops that fall into your eyes and let the wind steal our air.  We can stop and catch a breath underneath that street light, gasping and smiling, then wrapping our arms together to keep each other warm.

I love the way you look at me, a sort of detached tenderness...as if you are always admiring from a distance.  We attempt to walk together as one being, a few steps are accomplished but soon we lose rhythm and separate, keeping our arms linked and going down the dark alley towards the main highway.  We pass dilapidated houses, fallen into irreparable ruin, and feel as stubborn as them.  We too refuse to collapse.

In a spot of total darkness, you and I will share a kiss and light up the whole corner.  Or maybe that was just another street light.  But that sunbeam is fleeting and every inch of ourselves is soaked.  I silently marvel at how your jeans cling to your body, and now your shirt has become a mere silhouette upon your chest and arms, and I long to press up against you.

There isn't a single gesture that hasn't been done since the dawn of man that can show you just how much I love you right now.  Barely sensing the outline of your face, your eyes almost glowing in a mischievous tint.  I steal another kiss and we begin walking some more.  The whole town is asleep, it is so empty and silent, the lights from nearby shops and businesses seems like a glittering underground paradise.  Like in so many aspects of our life together, we are seemingly the only inhabitants of the world that lays before us.

We could spend hours exploring, or turn right back around and dry each other off after a hot shower.  The inevitable outcome in Egyptian cotton sheets...but how long until then?

Thursday, June 12, 2014

A Bit of Fire

The old photos of your face
Knives to my chest-
Needles to my eyes-
But it's a beautiful pain,
Nerve endings exposed to an empty air,
Each sleep I take
A premeditated suicide away from the day.

With each dream I awaken
Filled with the loss
Of senses, now but a memory
Etched in your skin.
We are so alive.

But I am weak.
With you
I cannot be strong.
With one touch
I am molten wax
Warming your fingertips,
Desiring
A bit of fire.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

I am in love with you.  Why is it so hard to follow up with an investigation to find the exact chemicals that react to draw me in, then away again?  You should seek out the particular fabric to which our hearts have been connected for all this time, find out its properties and why our bodies never rejected it, never even so much as torn a stitch from our aortas' walls.

I've persisted with you to take this clandestine dialogue into reality, dogged you to look back...just this once.  Look back and see immediately the time that has passed and how we have wasted it.  Insanity has convinced me that within you lies the rotted corpse of our relationship, likened to Catherine Linton's grave exhumed to reveal mere bones underneath her death shawl.  It died, but has continued to live and torment us.  We return again and again, hoping to satisfy some question and tug the string, hoping to either bring us together or finally pull apart.  Do you regret?  Do you play mind games with yourself deciphering my poems to you?

Because I want to stop asking, "What if?" and I want to stop thinking, "If only."

It was all beautiful.  Even the pain and doubts.  It was the first love I'd known outside of my family.  Poetry cannot do it justice.  I looked up into your eyes and that was real.

Been hiding in this cave for far too long.  I crave your light.

Male Stripper

I'm feeling very cold in this satin top.
A flimsy bow tie is all that keeps
It all from falling off and a man's
Hand comes up, the intimacy rising
The shivers inside my spine.
I looked up, expecting to see you.

My picturing of your face
Slowly melted away revealing
A handsome and strange face,
One I did not know, selling raffle tickets.
I exhaled and the room grew darker.

Being whipped around in my chair
By him some time later,
My fingers found a dollar bill
As my other hand grasped his bare thigh.
He swallowed my head up inside his shirt-
Chest muscles devoured my eyes.
I refused to breathe him in.
His perspiration clouded my glasses.

I'm glad I sat with my back to the door
You would never walk through,
I could not imagine the smile
You would bear, had you seen.
Should it have been your eyes instead?
I closed mine to transform his body
Into yours, a momentary escape

From the rapid disco lights and
The craving of a cigarette
Caused by his pheromone ripped six pack.