he took love's arrow out
of the quiver launching it
at she who he did revere
with deep devotion

Morning love
Tousled heads we hug
As alluring and beautiful
As a formal event
In coat and tie silk gown
Two hours of makeup
More even.
You in that negligée
Me au natural,
No airs put on when
Squintilly gazing at the bright break of morning with
Pillow marked cheeks
And hair awry. I think you are the picture in the morn of
Pure beauty and desire.
That kiss is our first one.
Today.
Let me wake you
With kisses
All over.

Easter.
She wants pheasant with some sauce.
Give me a duck up a turkeys ***
Deepfried, preferably.
She tells the kids the Easter bunny sometimes has to borrow
Rudolph and the sleigh to make
Deliveries.
I tell them truth that bunny hops on his own hoofs until he passes hell out.  He might, I say might, catch a ride on a tortoise.
She swears the egg came first.
I ask her - out of who's ***?
She loves them marshmallow perv Peepy things.
Only chocolate and bud in my basket, thanks!
She is more I guess you could label it Protestant than me.
I'm more southern street baptist, the kind that preaches a lot but been in a real church just once.
Despite our differences and her wrong *** way at looking at things we in ******* love!!!
I ****** her like a bunny four times last night.
I passed out. She may have kept going.

flatten your tongue
slip it between your teeth

n.

your little lips
forming an elipsis

o.

put them together
and may you declare
a word you’d so carefully deny—
no.

you spell it out
on table tops
shout it
from the rooftops

and when cursed hands
seek to defile your shrine
may you exclaim
"i am mine"

I offer no defense of my hidden sin,
Not when it wastes a fragment of eternity
In frivolous expenditure, stretched so thin
Across another vast, sprawling century.
And if I would - if I were - where to begin
This tour of a macabre private gallery?
All things, even this one, have their beginnings:
Thus, my humble collection's underpinnings.

Called to this divine vocation, I set out
Each time I encountered one who, crafting art,
Demanded my attentions. Please: never doubt
The truth of my intentions; my swelling heart
Adores them, falls in love as they sing or spout
Their lifeblood inspiration. Stepping apart
From all of this, don't stare so miserably!
Can I be blamed for working literally?

I love them, one and all, and here I curate -
Safe from all the ravagings of time, if not
Precisely speaking safe from my own mandate -
The workings and workers who inspired such thought,
Such incisive action. I lay them in state
With tender care, never sold and never bought.
Perhaps a glance at my favorite pieces
Might reassure you? My latest releases?

Observe the cuts into copper, engraving
Her fury, her passion into the cold plates!
How torturous, yes? She recalled it, raving,
Having sought me out to deny the ingrates
Assailing her solitude, as a craving.
I preserved her passion. Here, her works’ mates:
The roses she treasured etched into the hard bone
Of her shoulder-blades and skull, instead of stone.

But so few beloveds grace my humble home
Despite my voracious eye surveying scores
Of likely lovers - artful, otherwise - some
Lacking, left uninvited. Those I adore,
I long to beckon close - close as you now come.
Join me? There's more to show you, so much more,
And I hope you'll linger tonight, to dine.
I've just the thing for an artist who loves wine…

Our encounter begins, O glass of amber,
With your trembling surface inviting my lips,
your glass's simple flare; I may be no gambler,
But I see you quake as glass meets fingertips,
And you're not all sweetness - you'll change my timbre
Certainly enough - my gentle grip you nearly slip
As I survey your amber surface, raising you
Just high enough to sample from your bitter dew.

I cannot begin to wonder just how long
We've spent embracing each other, all wrapped up
And tangled together - I see I belong
To you as much as you to me - in my cups,
That desperate, furtive hunger spins a song
From my whispers: the way you've bound me up,
The way you draw me down, your bite on my tongue:
Your every breath invades me, fills my lungs.

In our time, we'll grind each other down to dust
Dissolving in that weary, seething flavor
Shot through every lingering of lips; I trust
My temperance will tire you - still, let's savor
These summer days, their mists ensuring the rust
Which withers us to nothing - In all, I favor
You against my lips, your fire dispelling cool:
In reason, in temperance, I turn the fool.

Kasabay nang pagbanggit mo ng "Mahal kita" dahan-dahan kang kumalas sa mga yakap ko habang sinasabi mo ang katagang "Pero, mas mahal ko siya"
Hindi ako makapaniwala sa aking narinig. Pilit na tinatanong sa 'king sarili "Ano? Anong nangyari? Bat nagkaganto?"
Nangungusap ang mga mata, tumingin sa langit habang lumuha ng nakapikit.
Hindi mawari ang lahat. Ito na ba? Ito na ba ang ating katapusan?
Hindi, Hindi ko kaya. Ayoko, ayoko pa. Maawa ka!