in front of a full-length mirror in the bedroom she stands.
naked, she is completely naked.
she is not like other girls i've been with, they would never
stand stark naked in my presence in the middle of the day, the room beaming with light,
while i was sitting and watching from the other end of the room- no, they would feel shy.
to be naked is to be vulnerable.
not with her, she is standing in front of the mirror
cupping her ******* one before the other, raising them, examining them, and telling me
that one, the left one, grew first.
even now it's still a little bigger than this one, she says, if you look carefully.
it is as if she's describing and showing me something commonplace; like maybe her hands
or her feet.
mistaken for a work art,
so fine-***** and delicate,
her beauty is ethereal,
it is almost satanic.

these midday ******* are always the laziest.
she moves slow, ritualistic almost, looks up at me
then continues, her mouth moving in long, sweet, agonizing reaches.
i **** her against the door,
her fingers digging into my fro
sometimes i **** her from behind, she holds on tightly to the bathroom sink
like her life depends on it.
we are always *******. it's like we cannot get enough.
it's like we're ******* in order to get an answer.
an answer about something we're so desperate to know.
thinking about it now it almost seems sorrowful.

she likes to be naked in front of me.
she doesn't understand that i am not moved by nakedness, per se
i am taken by glimpses of femininity;
like seeing her brush her hair in front of the mirror in the morning,
her arms raised and bent at the elbows
one hand brushing the length of her hair and the other following through,
the hollows of each armpit bare;
or seeing her preparing for the gym,
tank top and tights, running shoes
tying her ponytail really tight, like an Olympic gymnast's,
her face pure, divine, free of make up
this
this child of a goddess,
i become drunk seeing such beauty.

after dinner she is reading a book, lying down on the bed
her head propped up with pillows
i get on the bed and immediately begin to unzip her denim shorts
what are you doing? she says this without removing her eyes from the book
i don't respond, i begin to pull her shorts down
seriously, what are you doing? this time she lowers the book and looks at me
she lets me do it though, she even raises her torso up slightly when i'm pulling her underwear down.
but no, no, stop it,
she really wants to read
also, she tells me it's uncomfortable to have penetrative *** on a full stomach.
i am confused. why did she let me take off her shorts and underwear then?
i give up and lie down
she's got all the pillows so i lie with my head between her legs
using her pelvis as a pillow,
we stay in this position for a while
until i turn my head and glance up at her; she is looking down at me and breathing calmly,
she closes the book and says,
baby, why do you torture me like this?
beneath my ear it is wet.

how do i make you understand this feeling?
how do i go about
converting it into text?

these are not just words.
they are a window
into my mind, into my world.

And she confessed, and she cried, and she apologised, and I asked,
You ******* ****** him off?
It was nothing, she said, I didn't feel anything. I swear, please forgive me baby, please.
I can’t believe this, I said, get away from me. You ******* disgust me.
She began apologising again, profusely, and I said, barely in a whisper
But you *******... ****** him off?
I said it to myself really, to let it sink in, to fully process it.
She placed a shaky hand on my chest and said, I didn't feel anything at all, I swear,
It was like I was just going through the motions, I swear. You've got to understand me, baby.
Stop ******* touching me, I said. I was truly and absolutely disgusted by her.
She looked scared, nervous. She moved back. She was not used to seeing me this way. There was a pause,
Silence.
Slowly I moved towards her, deliberately, held her face in both my hands
And looked at her,
She was still sobbing softly, looking up at me like a frightened child
I carefully studied her face
Her lips
These lips, I thought to myself, as I moved a finger to touch them gently
These soft, elegant lips
That each night I kiss, touch, linger on... wrapped around another man’s ****?
She was probably on her knees, his **** half way in her mouth... No. ****. I’m only punishing myself thinking about it.
I took a step back and looked away from her. I mustn't think that way.
Her lips are exactly the same as they were before, nothing about them has changed.
The damage is within me, I understand that. Nothing has changed physically, just my perception.
Just my thoughts. Thoughts can **** you, I swear.
If only... if only I could... I don’t know... these words seem to die before they leave my mouth, respect for her has long since dissipated.
I thought we had something. I really did. I thought we’d made promises that only us, broken souls, could keep.

What about us? Huh?
What about the beautiful mornings walking along the shore, the day before us
Wayfarer shades hiding your eyes, Canon camera hanging from your neck
Me sidestepping pebbles and hot coral like why didn't I wear slippers?
And the not so beautiful mornings spent hugging the toilet, puking
Holding your hair back, saying I’m never gonna drink again, never
But no, Llahi, don’t be silly, I didn't say get rid of the Tequila bottle.
That's Sunday morning after a wild weekend
The afternoon is lazy, torpid, us feeling ****** up
But the night is quiet, cool
And these conversations we have at 2 am lying on your mom’s living room sofa
Sharing things with me that you couldn't with others
Sharing things with you that are more intimate than ***,
Sometimes a dreamer needs a realist to ground them
And sometimes a realist needs a dreamer to help them fly,
That was what we said, what we were
But it has all disappeared before a fleeting moment of lust,
Nothing is the same
Nothing is the same
Nothing is
Nothing,
See how much smaller we've become?
And I never want to see your face, not for a long time
But maybe I just want to kiss you this last time
While your tears are still streaming down your cheeks
Tasting of regret, of broken promises, of ringing emptiness
Because you have failed me
Or maybe we have failed each other
Surely, the universe has failed us both
But you don’t know how much I love you, you ******* *****,
I wonder if the sunsets will taste the same
Without me.

We walked along the ocean for about an hour
Lost in conversation
I suppose it was needed after misunderstandings six months ago
We encountered lots of things on the way
There were mangroves and wet sand, hot coral, dry sand, sea ****, couple dried up sea urchins
A bunch of other ****
Just things the tide had dumped
We stopped for a while to watch the sun
Which was setting, and do you remember how you said
It looked as if, far out on the horizon, this great orangey-yellow ball that was suspended in the sky with invisible ropes
Was slowly being lowered into the ocean, sinking
Never mind me, you said, I’m not making any sense
I understood what you meant, I think, I wanted to kiss you
Waves were breaking, gently crashing into our bare feet
And I noticed this cut on your foot, just a little one,
I think you hadn’t even realised it was there
But I kept quiet, didn’t say ****
And all your toenails were painted blue
And the waves would break over them and slowly retreat,
Leaving your feet wet and toenails glistening,
It was kind of a pretty thing to look at.

I don’t know how to be romantic
I don’t know how to write poetry
All I know
Is that you are a mermaid
And I am drowning,
Will you save me?

8 am
I'm half asleep on the bed, she's looking for her *******
On the floor, blue thong
She bends to pick it up and oh
Look at how sweetly those ******* hang.
She puts her hand across her chest
Cupping one breast as if she's protecting it.
Pulling up her jeans now
Zip. Button.
Looks at herself in the mirror
Fixes hair, hurriedly.
Moves closer and examines eyes
Pulls cap off little Visine bottle, then
Drop-
Drop-
Blink blink.
Catches my reflection in the mirror,
Smiles.
But this is morning, we can't look at each other more than two seconds
Without it getting awkward.

She walks over to the bed
Leans over, kisses me, then says
I had a really good time.

My life is like this.

A lot of hits,
Never number one.

She says I'm a bright guy
With dark thoughts,
She thinks I'm too cynical
When I’m at my desk, writing
Wearing these black rimmed glasses
And drinking
From that half empty bottle
Of liquor.
She says we’re polar opposites
And I think she’s right,
She always seems to have a song on her lips
I merely have curse words on mine.

She’s working on getting a tan she says
Lying by the pool with her friend
Soaking in the sun,
What do you think? I’m slowly getting there, aren't I?
She twists around in front of me
Flaunting her beach body,
Soon I’ll be the same colour as you, just wait and see.

She shuts the bedroom door
I untie the laces of her bikini
And drop them on the floor
Revealing everything there is
To reveal
***** lines
Lighter shade skin
And what most boys will want from her
But won’t get.
Kinda makes me feel good about myself.

You make me laugh a lot, she says, you really make me happy,
That makes me feel a little weird inside
Because I haven’t felt anything like it in a while,
I like this girl, I really do
She’s always got this positive vibe about her
With that head full of curls
And that heart full of dreams,
Life just feels golden.

“I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.”*
Charles Bukowski

Her soft, elegant lips
Form a happy smile,
A sharp contrast with her moist eyes.
A magnificent ruin.
It was her impassioned spirit that led them through
As they hovered on tiptoe
Into uncharted waters.
Sooner enough,
Innocent affection flowered
Into overwhelming passion.
The candle of love was lit,
And as it flickered
He was able to look into her eyes,
Not deep inside,
But just enough to see a reflection of himself-
Look at me. What am I doing? Is this right?
With that same light
She was able to look in his heart
And see him as nothing
But an apostle of pleasure.

She forever drifted off into reverie
And when shaken up from it,
She got up to chase a mirage,
Pulling and tugging and urging him along too
But he only made token efforts to find it.
And it finally made sense-
Those many, many nights,
Where there were more drinks and less lights,
And the grey plume of smoke from his cigarette constantly rose up and clouded his vision,
He only saw the real him,
Never the real her.

Tonight is something different.
Not the cinemas, not the bars, not the restaurants.
Tonight we chose to lie on the front deck of my dad’s catamaran,
In total silence.
Just gazing at the sky above.
Your head rested on my chest,
My fingers twirling and digging in your hair
As if there was something I was searching for.
Above us, the silver moon stands out in brilliant splendor,
And perfect contrast with the deep, dark, night sky.

I twist my head slightly
                           And look over to the shore
Where I spot tiny silhouettes of little children playing on the beach,
Kicking a ball and running and dancing about full of energy.
Their distant playful shouts and screams are carried across to us
By a pleasant gust of wind that brushes past,
Whoosh!
And the boat dances in the waves.
A slow, rocking motion.
As we lay
In silence.