You don't love, you fear.

It's alright living with my dog,
He's eager;
How he goes after things.
But I am patient.
I watch.
I don't scold when he gets too silly, or wayward.
Or praise him when he's a clever boy.
Whether he licks or bites is indifferent to me,
And he does both.
At best, he's at rest,
And then I stroke his tangled pelt.
For he's a teacher, too.
So in his restlessness,
I don't forget who is master and who dog.
And when
At last,
He's gone,
Another stray will soon enough appear.

Four,
the doors:
spirit (creativity),
heart (receptivity),
mind (selectivity)
&
materialism (generosity)
keep 'em healthy
BE
blessed.

Walking,
My body weaves,
Arms hang,
Pinned to shoulders
Loose as string.
The hard walkway,
Through cracked plimsolls,
Transmits,
To creaky hips,
My material faults,
In uneven steps.

The eye
Inward stares,
And at every step:
Those fears,
That I kept at bay
As I strayed,
Claw at my walls.

Now,
I must attend
To the piteous whimpers,
The cringing whines,
And frantic scratching.

And force myself
From running,
As I would,
To escape the pleading:
The howls,
Of that inner dog,
Tied to a post.

No, nothing,
Just that we're not,
And loved,
Until that last.

Yeah, I shook you -
With my hidden me:
Heal me,
Touch me,
Reach me,
Speak to me.

As I am!

        Masked we showed our hearts,
And ******
        Tender and rough.
While hidden  
        - different kinds of hurt.

Words like
jealousy,
obsession
and betrayal
Have a place.
I know their pain,
Those ugly feelings,
Hotwired into my brain,
As the body's lust
Now corporeal to me.

Yeah, I shook you -
With my hidden me:
Heal me,
Touch me,
Reach me,
Speak to me.

As you are!

I liked your weathered palms,
Chapped with art
Their grain a balm.
Whose sandy discontent,
Soothed my psyche
With their grit.

Yeah, I shook you -
With my hidden me:
Heal me,
Touch me,
Reach me,
Speak to me.

Unmasked!