her voice
bent me
backwards
over the
bedsheets
every
syllable
spinning silk
into sea
as she drew
the breath
from my ears
and a symphony
from my lips
she turned my
twin bed
into titanic
along with me
and as I was
drowning
she was speaking
poetry

Invariably,
You prefer to come
To me in the dark.
"You're more my temperature then,"
You once said.
I'm not much of a thermometer,
But I am the eurythmy
To each syllable you give
In such settled shadow.
A play of murmurs and fingertips,
You once named this.
Always I see a wreath in your hair,
In colors of Persia,
Textures of night,
And the soft blended lines
Of you I know
Infallibly.

your love is both
the shining altar
and the smoldering
gates of hell,
i dance between
like a woman possessed
unsure if you will save me
or devour me whole.

dappled morning light
the gentleness
of early suns
flickering through
leaves
dancing on a summer breeze
filtered rays
curtains drawn tight
against the intruding day
your steady breath
dusting my skin
will always be
how I want to wake
your sleepy voice
gentle
pulling me
into the new day
pulling me
into you
I could stay here
like this
entwined
with you
letting day fall into night
and night bloom into day
the world beyond our window
dissolving
I would if we could
stay here
breathing you in
my oxygen
the falling stars
of your kisses upon my skin
firing my heart
with love.

© J.C.

It was so amazing how being with a man
made me crave him, even when he was
nowhere around, even when he was
in my presence, and I wanted to hold
his hips.  To be encased in his memories,
in the warm blue streams of his scintillating
masculinity, my whole essence lingering
in him, incapable of moving away from his
tender grip.