Had this evening been a date
-- a real date, just the two of us --
I would've opened the door for you.
I would've pulled out your chair.
I would've showered you with compliments.
("You are so beautiful it hurts.")
I would've held your hand atop the table, who cares if people stared?
I would've kissed you when the lights went out.
I would've forced myself to look away from you, only to look back
again and again and again.
I would've solved the ****** because impressing you would've mattered.
I would've told you
"I love you"
a thousand times.
I would've told you
"I love you"
a thousand times more.
I would've pulled out your chair.
I would've held the door open for you.
I would've kissed you on that
Union Jack adorned porch.
**I wouldn't have cared about
the people around us.**
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
I am warm to the touch
& breath harder,
get much hotter
when I think about you,
you & your touch,
I am missing.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
When you touch me
I feel all the hair on my body stand up
As if it's reaching to see if it's you,
Yes you,
The most stunning and enchanting human being,
Touching my body.
When you touch me
I feel warm and cold at the same time.
As if my body doesn't know how to react
To this,
This perfect human contact, skin on skin.
I think I'm melting.
When you touch me
And breathe your warm, sweet breath on my neck
While tracing along with your tongue,
It seems
Like I've never been so far from reality.
Transcendental.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
"You seem happier.
You're practically glowing with happiness."
"Am I?"
"Aren't you?"
You've always asked me
wraparound questions,
turning them back against me.
I'm never sure how to respond to them and once I have,
I never know if it's sufficient.
But this one didn't faze me --
I suppose I am glowing with happiness.
I've found love in the shadows of life.
Having her is something I will forever thank God for.
It's... mystifying.
Me,
a person incapable of opening my heart with ease,
has taken a hammer
and shattered it wide open.
Oh, I'm glad I did.
She's made a home there.
She's opened up the dusty curtains that covered the windows.
She's let the light of
hope
shine through.
I'm glad you've noticed.
It would've been odd for me to just say,
**"I love her so much."**
But I didn't have to.
You saw it.
And to think I used to call you 'oblivious'.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
This is what i want to do...
i see you in your tight yes
and thrum my lips across the whimsy
of your chaste suzette. i want to live alive -
and be the swollen one
chafing against your plump curls...
my tongue
gasping,... teeth
teething.
this is what i want to do.
to
unload
a century of issue
into the womb of your
distance, to break the silence
of your wet dream
with the violence
of our sweet
peace.
yes.
this, is what i want to do.
to plum your cherry in the very gone
of our arrival's tomb...
to clump the rude farse
of our weary calamity
into a precious knot
we freakishly
unravel...
i want
to press my lips
to your valley
till you *** around
and say, Thank
You,
but can
only
with you.
in you.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
now that we are nearly one
let us consume the other
and be tranquil in our spine
and darlings, ever darlings.
let us chime invincible
upon the purposeful earth
and lounge in the quake
of it.
now that we are nearly one
let us pursue the rarity of our union
to the depths of our actual love
and be made perfect in the flaw
of god's kingdom, where man has raged
against itself, and joined the devils
of their inner dread.
let us coerce the seasons to a bliss
and reign above all unjoy
to be together, at odds
with the evening
of our mean
palace.
let us love the other more than we understand
and stand under the canopy of sleepless
love... forever.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
a late harvest in Brigadoon
plucked from good earth
by strong hands
hauling
uphill, until
a gentle
slope
rewards
a stiff
back; easing
a grateful
burden
that levitates
famine
[ bushels ]
now
ziggarats
in a root
cellar
a Sumerian skyline
of parsnips and rhubarb
with fennel minarets
where Gilgamesh slept
in a pantry of pagan loot
underneath a corner room
at the very back
of a round
house.
where four seasons bunk with an almanac
mason jars of pickled beets
breathing their own blood
hanging gardens from the ceiling
of the Underworld
like fliers of missing children
on telephone poles
i go outside and wander off
you stay home
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
your cell phone vibrates like a pixie on a train.
smooth as a glass baby's
loose Blue Tooth
in Vaseline
you were miles away from my empty pail of rain
a watermark on the moon, maybe
you knew every
thing ?
maybe you do, maybe i'm drinking my lunch.
you amuse the air i breathe through my skin
like a pearl soothes an oyster
in a bed of nails
and spring.
your ******* are amazing.
you are vishnu at harrods. an airy gorgeous.
a gourd of palpable kiss.
you are the meaning of senseless joy
and the engines
of yes.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC