shocksthroughmybraincouldntfigureoutwhyiwassostressedneverthought­aboutthatiwouldseeapigeonontheshrubassoonasiwenttocaptureitflewaw­ay

is this only where I shine? is this only where my voice thrives?
being in such a place, a damp and humid place that I believe is vignetted in rosey pink and chewed up bubblegum with spits of purple hues slobbered and drooled everywhere, dripping down the ceiling with a few seldom splashes —

is this scene, is this all I can sing? can I only describe stench, hot breaths, milky penny-like juices, and slits and poles that play and buck? can I only dream of seduction? is my head only full of love-marbles? I shake my head and you hear them, bounce, jiggle, clink and *****, full of color and perfect circularity: a tautology between my thighs and why do I thrive as I call myself your bim b0? as I call myself your cocoa hued bim b0? why have I thrived as a mammy and as a jezebel when I should not? why must my strengths harm other women around me? I do not mean to set back time, no, but pieces and acres of my heart remained colonized, and I can’t resist the temptation of my sweet man holding me back into the bed, with his vein’d hand between fat burnt globes on my chest, as he wiggles his free hand inside my crevice, heavenly burning crevice — I can’t resist a good man, a man’s man, a renaissance man, as I allow him to carve me into him — why, oh why, is this the song I sing?

wet in braga, down in lagos
where we go to escape seeing eyes, knowing eyes
to escape to temples of the sea,
then once there, we step inside
toes first for you and for me, heels first, yet legs in sync,
and inside ****** temples is there marbled ash and sea vein'd patterns
and is there samphire growing along the corners of our coastal home
but inside our temple, away from the singing shine of the sun, away from the ringing eyes of the sky, sit we in a chair,
you under me, legs spread as a king with your hands squeezing the armrest
and my body rolling like waves on top of you,
vision is hazy as you stuff your face into anemones bound to my ribs,
soft and plush, lush and plump, fat jugs that move like seawater, that moves like soft coral,  
you kiss me with your tongue as a master and I grab onto your bearded cheeks as a slave,
a desperate one, who begs for your loving mercy and kindness
as I await your order to put you inside of me, as I await your order to mount you,
and as a jezebel, I lure you into a perfumed bed and I lay there
lolled open as a wildflower
I smell as a salsify and with a roaring pleasure that swells over my billows,
I wait to satisfy you and to swallow your troubles away as the sea



as we wade down old cliffs, roll through old cities, I drink from a bottle with water
coming from algarve, as it brings ripples into our existence,

it has fluttered away . . .

your eyes shine like jewels
your skin glows like marble

I am the luckiest girl in the world, I have you, beautiful man, why do you not see how beautiful you are? I have never been with such a beautiful man, beautiful man, beautiful man,

how did we meet? why did we meet? Italy was everything, now here I am, your wife: my calls have been answered, my prayers have been answered,

you are so precious, I was afraid to love you, you are so precious, I keep you safe in my chest,

I forgot the way the damp Flemish heat sticks to my skin,
the tossing and turning and half draped blankets in a warm night next to a warm man whose chest rises and falls slowly and deeply and steadily in a deep sleep,
my heart and ***** swells with a soft and settled joy, yet balloons my eyes with a lip licking lust — a lean man, thin legs and arms with the right hints of muscle definition, a strong and defined jaw : his nose, perfect; just how I’ve dreamed of a man since girlhood, and I have a man from my stories, from my dreams, showing me the world and filling me up to the brim with his love —
a honey man, a Taurean man, a man of Venus …

my husband.

if i was normal I’d
wouldn’t call you daddy,
wouldn’t want to cuddle with a stuffy
and wouldn’t need to be treated like a child,
maybe it’d be better, maybe it’d **** more

but I want it and I need it,
don’t deprive me

he looked at me with stern eyes,
the first man to stay with me while I grow up,
the first man who looked at me in my eyes and said,
"Babies need to grow up too," and he said it to me with fatherly eyes
and soft kisses and a stern holding hand, not leaving my side and holding me as
I bloom towards the sun and sky, tells me he is always my daddy and he is always going to love me
like a father does, but I must continue to grow. He wants to love me and nurture me, he is tending to me, I see it:
it's blossoming, his love, he did it, today, he has finally shown me his fatherly love, his husbandly love, he's done it, and now I know it,
now I see it, I know, you, I see you.

My birthday is coming up, and he wants to see me grow. Sorry, don't take it the wrong way. You are the only one who has ever encouraged my growth, who has never held me back.