The Lips
That dance over my skin.
How long I've waited for them,
For that delicious touch of his
To meet with mines.
How
Long I've waited to give love
And he's pulled it right out of me
With those
Lips.
The touch of his words
Send me into a pirouette
And set me aglow in my very depths.
And although they've
Only touched my surface
They reach so very deeply into the
Very heart of me.
Does he even see
What he does to me?
What he pulls out of me?
Emotions I never knew
Could exist.
He's lips that
Melt away my insides
With a simple smile
But the effect doesn't stop there,
Doesn't hold back, doesn't spare,
Doesn't overlook any inch
Of me that needs the warmth
That's forever emanating
From his lips that set my
Soul to dancing,
Sets my heart aflutter
Till I pointe
Ready to rise high
Feeling as royal as a queen.
Oh how long I've waited for
His lips.
I dream of the lush
Revel in the ardent
Touch
Of those precious
Sweets
Saved just for me
And my palate.
as lovely as dew
In the morning  
And flowers in full bud
Just for me.
His lips.

Pitter-patter
plip-plop-ploop
rain falls on the window
Sill as, pondering invisible thoughts, you
stare out at gray weather
looking as though you yourself
once upon a time
fell from on high
like these drops of water
to soak, and saturate
my life.
My thoughts run smooth
As I regard you.
alike heavy watercolors and inks
on paper you dye me.
And when they ask
about the changing colors of my canvas.
I'll answer that raindrops
fell as I floated down
down the river of time
and so of course was soaked.

For you my art becomes somatic.
For you it melds asomatous and adroitness.
My oeuvre is intended for you
and so I bestow with the invisible ink,
of the mind that only you see,
the precious words thick with dreams
and hidden meanings.
L'œuvre de la Nuit
Showcased to an audience of only one
At 3am whilst the world waits on the sun.
Inspired by a masterpiece
My work has only just begun.
And we’ve many more sunset to dawns
To layer my ardor many times over
On your heart.

You
Turn me into a poet aroused
by the beauty of your being and I
Feel the increasing need to impart,
to write with asomatous ink, many a stanza upon
the surfaces of the recesses of your heart.
My desire for you transforms me from beast
Into a composer with a symphony,
to compose lush chanson to reach
deep and strong within thee
until you vibrate with a thousand
instruments.
La nuit commence tout juste.
With such art fait la nuit
is there really need for sleep?

Tonight
I want first to explicate
and delve into the many ways
that I will love you
through ever so many days.
And afterwards to situate
the softest, and warmest touch
of lips like a painters wet brush
onto new canvas.
To seep into you like
a vocalists voice into new lyric.
To flow with you akin
a dancer gliding through the motions
of a grand romance, an
oeuvre cowritten by you and I
performed through the night.