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P I Watson Jul 2019
Earthy smell of your skin spread across the sheets
Curled up with your tan litheness, I watch
Green block letters on your t-shirt rise and fall.
Wishing it was more than your breath propelling them up and down,
I curse my own heart for swelling
P I Watson May 2019
The image breathes joy
I leave it out. It urges
me to be better
P I Watson May 2019
Every night I want
to talk.  For you I hold back
despite the nausea
P I Watson May 2019
The fog's now cleared, and
will not again enshroud my
view of your gold gate
P I Watson May 2019
There’s a reason why
dancing under moonlight is a cliche.
The euphoria is relentless

Pink behind the rising moon
Your hipbone beneath my right hand
knees clash to Latin percussion
Together we count  
1 2 3…5 6 7

Trading vulnerabilities over pork and pasta,
I feel, for one awful moment,
The pain of my daughter’s contempt
You reassure a mother after being kicked by her child
123...567

Supine silence on yellow grass mats. Faint from heat
I feel sad when you recount
how I charged your phone first
You deserve kindness.  I am kind
1 2 3…5 6 7

Your laugh resounds above all
A solo from the audience
As proud and loud as any Jazzman’s improvisation  
encouraging is all to do better
1 2 3…5 6 7

Earthy smell of your skin spread across the sheets
Curled up with tan litheness, I watch
green block letters rise and fall.
Wishing it was more than breath propelling them up and down,
I curse my own heart for swelling
123...
P I Watson May 2019
Frost is longing.
I longed for the thaw as soon as I saw
Icy blue eyes and a navy Patagonia
Reflected up from a small square of light

Longing to see you but settling for bantered texts and drunken facetimes
That only made me long to know you more.

Longing to clasp your neck and pull
You to me over a copper table in candlelight

Longing to collapse twelve days into one
so we can take the next step down a path
Of myriad possibilities

Frost is Two roads not yet contemplated
We have barely set out
There will be many chances to diverge
Each one a what could have been
But now there is only one reality
A fantasy of who I want you to be

Frost is nipping at my nose
With teeth like wintergreen chiclets
Whatever it will be, it will never be this
I have eaten roasted chestnuts
Seduced by the smell  
I am always disappointed by the taste

Yet, ever optimistic, I try again
and again I come closer
To making fantasy real.
All we can have is close enough

Frost is on the window
Scratch with your finger to see through
Delight in how it rolls up under your nails before it melts

— The End —