Can't remember

the last time I made love,

not the quick unarmored ***

gasping in a Friday night urgency,

tearing off clothes

with tiger-teeth and monkey-hands

no, making love:

like a gentle wash cycle

of lips on shoulder and nape,

simple looks of consenting thirst,

gorgeous shape of muscles

sifting into one another

glued in a slow, deliberate,

delicious dance

no conspiracy

no ulterior motive

but to know each and every niche

the highways of sweat and skin...

Can't recall exactly the date

of that last time

but I remember who

and I know how,

still remember those heavy eyes...


His searching hands between my legs


hot breath on my neck,

****--how that had made me melt:

considerate fingers playing deep blues

on my side, of my ribs,

rapacious thirst of oceans

dissolving into my august body

discovering sensitive spots to linger wet,

his mouth, I remember

pink caucasian  smoothness whispering

more & more my name - such authority on the kiss



As we become Las Vegas

bright lights & heat waves

hunger no longer an ache or crutch

I can't remember precisely

that last time I've been touched,

when my heart & soul felt

so much,

but I still can remember

the last time

with whom I made

This, like that

Oh! and

How!

He made me

melt...

Beautiful lyrical words

drawing a cunning belief

of everlasting

adoration

Utter deceit

painful, heart wrenching agony

evoking more emotion

perhaps, pain is our

                                    ... elusive love affair

It doesn't feel right
To be angry,
To be sad,
To have envy.
We want to just have
Peaceful, happy living.

But they are called emotions for a reason:
It's not just the happy and hopeful,
It's also the dark and scary,
The distracted and tired.

It has been said
That the body is a "field of sensation."
A field may have an abundance of the same produce,
But different sections
Can receive different presence.
Presence...

Living in the present
Does not mean that everything will be fine,
Yet also does not necessarily mean vice versa
Either.

When a wrong isn't done toward a party,
When wrong is only pumped inside the body,
The body feels balanced and cleansed
For when the happy feelings return.

If foxes have holes
And birds nests,
So wrongs share a duplex with rights
In the body's quarters.
After all, did not life
Originate from darkness itself?