Kissing, you
Pressing, you
Every day, I come home to something right and true
A life, + you

All my journals disintegrate to poetry
I begin a rant,
One point, two points,
Three in my head
Happy, angry, silly or sad
Rhetoric fully planned,
This happened, then that,
But soon, I begin uniting the words,
Sentences connected in meter and time
I'm lost in rhyme, pentameter, prose
Sublime
Lines flowing,
My mind rolling,
Memory erasing
Lost in something,
Distracted by creativity,
Fulfilled by a need that's in me,
Drained of the pent-up energy
Satisfied, sated and understood by the page.

The alligator in my swamp
The hornet in my nest
Whispered softly under the meteor showered sky,
I'm the only one who'll know.

Because he never had a soul,
He never could remember mine.

He looked for the gun but couldn't find it
Frenzied angry,
Emotionally wrecked
Desperate to get his hands on a trigger,
Cold familiar handle and feel
He missed the days of passive purpose,
A father's love felt from wars gaze
His thoughts fixed
One shell to end the arguments forever
Inside his head,
Inside his bed,
Inside the lead
But he looked for the gun and couldn't find it.

A deep breath escapes his sinking ribs,
A quiet captivating abandon
Under a crisp cool cloak,
His deep veined arm stretches over my shoulder
Wrapping my figure,
An inert force flexed under my cupped palm
Effortlessly pulling and pinning me,
His assets kept safe under silent supervision.

In the grass,
At my knees
Between my legs
In spite of protest
At his desk,
Beside my waist,
In their closet
Against the wall,
By the pool,
In his __
At the game,
Beside his in-laws
Beneath the table
Next to his wife,
Near his son,
On his knees,
On my car,
With absolute disregard,
With complete abandon,
With brazen enthusiasm,
With unabashed passion,
Without limitation,
Without reservation,
Without a yes
He begged me.

I'm not the first survivor,
Just yours

Don't revive me,
Let me be

Your adoring pitiful pitiable survivor,
I'm not the first to be left behind,
Not the first displaced by ego

I've accepted my cessation,
A long lost love that once was perfection,
Soiled by your foolish ignorant indiscretions
Beaten by your cowardice, conniving, ache and craving.

I once tasted your good nature,
Drank in your laughter and longing,
But now I rest,
Deposited,
Worn out by over a decade of cardiopulmonary resuscitation

Don't trade my peace for your conscience
Reviving a love that should have died a decade ago,
Along with my ego

Don't revive me,
Just let me be

I'm not the first survivor.
Just yours

My mother grew up poor and strong,
Wild and kind,
Unsteady and prime.
Black curls and brick house,
Stealing for her supper.

My mother can push and fight,
Claw and brawl,
My mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

She stands upon walls,
Falls,
then finds her footing.
Because my mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

At times she's insecure and unsure,
Unknowing that
My mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing.

She pushes, bows, cares and bares,
She can endure all things, conquer all things and renew all things,
For my mother is a warrior in lamb's clothing

I have it in spades
But it comes in waves,
In the climb, I know I'm worth it,
On the precipice, it feels so clear,
In the curl, I'm tested,
It's in the break that I get lost,
And just as it pulls me in,
I ride upon the backs of the strong women who surround me,
Holding me accountable,
Exposing the humanity that grounds me,
Resolve is a funny thing,
I have it in spades,
But it comes in waves.

Take me back to the South?
I rubbed a puppy but you made it live,
I held your hand and ego as a ghost rode *****,
I tasted your mouth
Your deep addictive kisses were salty ripe with hidden tears, expectations and confessions of fears,
You pressed me for affirmation with one foot out the door,
My supposition acquiesced to passion
Then, you disappeared

Now you’re here
Pressing me,
Asking me what do I want?
I need consistency, presence, commitment, and time.

What do I feel?
What I feel is
Soul mate attraction,
Unconfined by silence,
Driven, diving, biding
Ineffable, inexplicable, unconstrainable
Uncontainable love and lust
Intertwined and unbound
How do you feel?

Do you have clarity?
For me, it’s taking its sweet time
Dragging and compartmentalizing
The inner unraveling of the unforgiven knot of the unacknowledged
The unpolished
And unabolished.

What do I want?
Excuse me as I try to unpack the dusty boxes,
On my neglected shelves.
I’m not a stranger to love or lust,
But, I’m not a friend either.
I’m not an enchantress,
No siren here my friend.
Nor, am I an open book,
My closest companions are the choir of thoughts,
Who sing songs of loyalty, doubts and declarations,
I’ve wandered but
I want a true partner to walk hand in hand the path of a life mundane,
Stealing moments of hungry happiness, exquisite.

You break down my defenses
Despite all logic and suppression,
Fingers press into mind’s flesh,
Nails rake down your neck.
My heart pounds and my mouth rounds,
Warm wet worship,
Down the base of your inspiring ****.
Your groaning and growing elicit my complete attention,
And, focus my irreverent intentions
To unraveling the bead formed on the cusp of your tip,
Your palms trace the strands of my hair,
Your pleasure drives sated completion
Is it plans or preoccupations of hands?
Are you practicing yet?

For now, as you lament love lost
I’ll sit quasi patient,
Outwardly immobile and facetiously engaged
Damp wanting but waiting,
Quietly watching the two flames in my candle
As they melt and burn the wax around its’ wicks,
Hot but constrained
Destructive but contained.

I’ll be externally reverent for the life carefully molded,
Grateful for familial serenity
But, ever mindful of the calling,
Forged by sound, touch and taste
To an internal dereliction sung by our blue flame.