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Arke Jun 2018
find a lover who writes you sonnets
who uses the darkest flecks of your eyes as ink
and the shades of your skin as paper
writing along the edges of your wrists and arms
with tongue and teeth
with purpose, truth, and love

find a lover whose heart sings to yours
a pianissimo summer sonata, dolce
using their words sotto voce against your ear
melodiously humming against your body
with their lips pressed to your neck
with passion, fire and tenderness

find a lover who creates art
using line weight in colloquy and canvas alike
to paint you with diamonds, as they see you
watch them carve your essence
with rainbows and pearls
with intensity, feeling, and beauty

find a lover who gives to you
who presents all the joys of life
unselfishly and without expectation
and when they give freely and openly
ensure that you, too, become a lover
who writes, sings, creates, and returns
  Jun 2018 Arke
Mike Hauser
When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say
Arke Jun 2018
gold pours from your lips
tracing the edges of my hips
I count every star on your chest
diamonds dance along your sides
your broken french, silk
wrapping me to you, tied
us both together, tighter

lapis irises look at me
clear as the sunset sea
your body whispers
together we could form
obsidium and hauyne
our core is fire
we'll be together again

we had forgotten this feeling
primal and both healing
thunderstorms begin within me
our meeting surely kismet
certain as the rise of our moon
a volcano becomes active
I yearn to be with you soon
Arke Jun 2018
when I was little
my mother
told me a story
about the time
she held a butterfly
she loved him, she said

he was yellow and beautiful
he was delicate
and fragile
his wings were paper
and his legs were glass
and he died in her hands

and I have been
absolutely terrified of them
ever since
it's a stupid fear
I've been told
who the hell is afraid of butterflies?

and when I
think of your skin,
white sheets of paper
more beautiful than anything
and your arms, your collar bones
your shoulders, smooth like glass

I am afraid to hold you
or hurt you
instead, I'll watch you from afar
as you soar through
crystal blue skies
further and further away
you give me butterflies.
Arke Jun 2018
you're a lethal toxin underneath
pull the cutlass from your sheath
a little death never hurt anyone
place my hands 'round your gun

your kiss is an aimed ****
and yet I want to stand still
waiting for you to pull the trigger
a single look shows your vigor

use your scope in the dark
we both know I'm your mark
aim your sword to my breast
you are here at my behest

around my neck I'll feel your hands
and I will be at your command
I want the death you provide
cut me now, deep inside
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