I'm thinking of loving you,
make a note of that!

put a yellow stickum
on the fridge
already curling up,
from the good steam of
the first coffee atmospheric

I'm thinking of moving in!

clear me a drawer,
half a closet will do,
not much for possessions,
thinking I'll stay awhile,
as long as you possess me
and vice versa too!

could be seasonal,
winter marking me,
scarf dug out from somewhere,
but that just means
it is the season for
better slow loving

baby,
don't please misunderstand,
my intentions good,
just human, no regretting,
motives purely selfish,
want to put this self in you,
and see what comes of it

the stickum note,
to the floor now fallen,
in the under the fridge space,
where things go that...

no omen, no, oh man!
cause when I decided,
got past the thinking point,
arrived at the sticking point,
appears to be a long time
such a long time
to be loving you,
so many other things
curled,
neither of us noticed
that first stickum fallen

make a note of that!

soiled.
here there everywhere.
regular like.
verb and noun,
he, both.
soiled, soiled.
verb, noun.

*****.
a stupid~sounding word.
say ***** *****
***** three times fast.

what is a sound of *****?
intimate.

what is the color of *****?
every color that leaves you,
or even begins you,
soiled, sullied, tainted.
sweaty.

the intimate man did not intimate.

his stains were visible.
no need for polite,
needless the charade,
of legitimizing intimacy,
there for all to see.

they were no longer
intimate.
he did not know why,
after awhile,
he didn't care.

pretended intimacy,
which was a ***** thing,
a stainless steel cutlery
kind of *****.
a reflection visible only to the
eye of the beholder.

cutlery was never clean,
soiled, after but one use,
think.
in the mouth, with the hands.

such intimacy,
that, they still shared.
an easy pretense.

terror.
terror is intimate
and *****.

lived in terror.
not constant which implies periodic spaces.
no breaks.
the terror soiled him,
you did not need even be intimate with me.

sweaty,
see, smell it.
taste it,
even better!

though the terror was deeply intimate,
in the skin embedded,
I told ya,
easy visible.
easy to avoid the intimacy of
terror.

clean, silky clean intimates,
changed regular,
changed nothing.

intimacy was a Cain mark.
his private, public.
his public, privy.

more?
more.

shame.
shame is intimate.

there are so many kinds too.
the shame of soiled.
the shame of disrespect,
the shame behind closed doors.
the shame of public humiliation.
the shame, the stink, of failure.
the shame we share in ways
we wish not speak of.
the shame of bad grammar,
shame leaves you soiled, *****.
terrified.

shame on you for having read so far.

but you can boast
you knew me when,
you knew me
intimately,
bad and well.

you knew
that you did not know
anything about me,
even though,
we had been
at least
this one time,
intimate.

who is soiled now?