The textures of a star as with her flesh
Are not those that seep nor soften
That they grace the hands divine
With the airiest of moistures or the fluidity
Of fire. It is far from that.

All smoothness that I know I felt
And are all too palpable.
Now I abstain from such,
     From such nakedness.

Not the papaya, the apples, the grapes of La Union,
Nor the watermelon kind of touch
But of the moon attenuated, the pierce
Of the narrow light or the folding abaniko,
Could unravel me towards the discovery
Of wild fragilities, little by little, all too tender,
With its river, and its regions forbidden
     And its sections.

I circumnavigate my passions
Towards hers.
     I shiver.

I have yet to measure a feather,
Her waist,
     With my lips.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

The kisses from your lips
For they are the wine
That have left me intoxicated

Tis pleasure sweet to think of tasting you.
to kiss your honeyed lips a tender treat,
to savour with my tongue your velvet heat,
to suckle deep that nectared heady brew.
Downy peach skin I long to stroke anew,
whipped creamy smooth and chocolate bittersweet.
Your luscious mango juice I ache to eat,
drown in your silky softness I once knew.

Many banquets were eaten in our bed,
each tasty morsel set the craving trap.
Imagine feasting on a love now past.
The apple-of-my-eye that cuts me dead
and tosses me a final candied scrap.
Lovelorn and syrup-sick I needs must fast.

She is the color of passion ー
    The heated sighs and whispers
    of promises to be broken in
    cold, lonely nights.

She is the color of kisses ー
     Chafed and bruised in stolen
      Moments, never to be
      experienced again.

She is the color of scorn ー
      Laughter, icy and vengeful,
      over desperate pleas as they
      fall to Bitter ears.

She is the color of women,
      of mother and child,
      Forgotten and forsaken ー
      a ransom paid for one eternal
      Night.

The final blue hours of day
the falling to your sway
the mad of reason slipping away
under the pale moon, of night's dawn
with stars all strung, you'll come
so soon to taste, to kiss me
a crushing fire, to quench
to melt, to take me

Something about her
the way she sips her beer
as if it’s tea, and she’s in a kimono
peering out into a storm
as the wind rattles the ***
and snakes through the silk
she undulates, sliding her finger
over the rim, then sips

I know the real storm
broods inside her frail frame
but she says little. mostly listens
and it drives me utterly insane
she should scream or bang on walls
she should throw ashtrays into tvs
but instead, she simply nods
her glazed eyes as still as pearls

She’s like a cherry blossom descending
towards the  muddy trail below
she will be trampled by hooves
of  merchants and thieves
and I am the charcoal cloud, aching
as I feel her falling farther from me…

teasing sweat
from every pore
of your body
you writhe against
invisible bonds
your limbs held
by my voice
and sensation alone
I will torture you
gently with sweetness
till you vibrate
and ring out
like a struck gong

Reluctant for a time, I finally slipped into my day skin.
The taste of stale red wine on my tongue.
While I brushed dreams aside and out my beard
dropped a thousand stars.
Water flowed down my throat reviving, and now,
all my engines are burning, burning for love.

She then wears her special smile
an inamorata's conspiratorial
signalling her arousal, need to get me closer
right there in a room full of people
all of us in the midst of serious business.
I have deep yearning in my eyes
that in turn sets fire to her love central
we burn to be in each other's arms
lovers in exile, commandeer private moments
deflecting watchful eyes of jealousy
every time our secret rituals of amour
take unexpected arms and win wars.

*******!
She took my smokes!
Were the hec is that wine?
White trash: thats what she is
Lying there, stinking like old perfume.
Brush your teeth,
(At least once this year.)
Gimme that remote,
**** tv is mine anyways
Move over, shift, away.
Take your trash
Ok, leave if you wanna..

But

You laugh at night
As you **** in the smoke
And you ride me like no one has
And you like the TV on
While we *****
And you like spirit drinks
and I feel like lightening when
you strike
and I cant wait till Friday
when you arrive.

So

Thats what I think
And so yes – ok – I love you.