my fingers may feel like ice
when i return from winter
but don’t let that fool you into thinking
that i’m frozen.

no, dear
my skin is only cold
because the chill
couldn’t find a way
inside.
i love myself far too much
for that.

This year
You were a liar
And so was I.

The beat of my heart went unanswered
And your biological responses left unchecked.

I was alone
And you were smiling in the next room.

There was death.

Death of people
Death of friendships
Death of trust
Death of love.

My birthday was just another day.

And your gift to me,
The same as always
More oil to keep
This monstrous engine running.

She is not a sub
And may never be
Her inner voice
Convinces her of
A different choice

But her spirit wails
And her body lusts
For hard physical passion
Power exchange
Seed and submission

If you play with her
Deliver strength
Back her to a wall
Kiss her hard
Command her jaw

Use her
Discipline her
Drop her to her knees
It’s what she needs, and
She loves to please

I still reference you in conversations.
I still smell your flannels.
I wonder how soft your hair is today.
I kiss the walls of the shower just to hear the same pop our lips would make.
I wish I had endless pictures of your collar bones and eyes.
I wish I had endless access to your thighs and chest and that dot on your neck.
When I *** I say your name.
Your voice recordings aren't the same.  I want you to call and put me to sleep with your breath and I want this all without the repercussions.

I want you to be my friend.
And I want the benefit of you being my lover again.

Glistening with wetness,
fingers fitting in like Tetris.
Cream dripping on the mattress.
Pillow firming press against your ****,
gyrating to the thoughts of being licked.
Then ****** on like a twisted piece of licorice.
Pleasure leaking from your body through your hips
Desire holding your body captive like a hypnotist
Your skin crawling with desire screaming it's fix
Drowning your finger in a pool of your juices
Your hips ****** and twist,
and mind, lift and dip.
Our bodies working a full shift,
like we were built for each others fit.
You biting on the sheets,
I'm biting on your lip,
****** at the same time;
when our world eclipse-
our-space doesn't exist.
Off to another world,
a briefly escape to,
a pleasure abyss.

Roses are red;
           Blindfolded are you
           dripping wet
           from the things I did to you.

some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be mony and ****** and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

I lay here
Naked and exposed.
But only for a night,
By morning he must go.
Make me feel beautiful,
I don’t care about tomorrow,
Kiss me, **** me, hold me
To forget all my sorrows.