i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

He asks her to write a song for him,
She composes for him, her poetry...
                                                      ­  
                                                        He asks her to tell him a bed-time story
                                                        Sh­e lulls him with her poetry...

He asks her to sing a song for him,
She recites to him her poetry...

                                                     ­            He asks her to dance with him,
                                                            ­   She moves him with her poetry...
                                                  
He asks her, to be his girl.
She smiles, *and gives him her poetry...

Wrap me up and save
me. I'm drowning in God's
seas again. The waves
are hard to escape. I can't
breathe as the water is filling
up my lungs again. People
gathered to watch my
miserable life end. No
one offered me a hand.
You were the only man
willing to dive and take
the swim. You dragged
me above the waves. Held
my head up and cried in
pain "Please don't do this
again". "Breath in breathe
and out". "Breathe in the
words trembling from my
mouth" "Breathe in these
words of I love you and i'll
always do till the very end"
he said as he dragged me
to the sea shore. Where he
laid my body down. Kissed
my lips and neck. Where
he picked the seaweed
off my golden coloured
dress* ~

My soft moans are the lullabies that put your inhibitions to bed,
And awaken the thoughts that awaken your head.
Our bodies speak stories a thousand years old
Of lovers speaking with tongues without control
Of beginnings enticing enough to lead us to sin
Of endings explosive enough to make us begin again.

she’s the girl who will remember everything. from your birthday, to the story behind that scar on your left arm, to the number of freckles on your body.

she will love every inch of your body and your soul and even the heart you didn’t know you had.

she will take in everything you have to offer and give you back so much more. so much, that you won’t even know what to do with it.

she will open up the world for you. from books and music and film to things like culture and race and language.

she’s smarter and far more beautiful than she dares herself to show.

and you will love her.

you will love her like you’ve never loved anybody before.

she will level every winter your body has suffered with all the springs her bones have weathered.

and when you go, because you can no longer handle her, she will drown herself in alcohol and drugs and sorrow. and wonder why she wasn’t good enough.

she will refuse to be saved by any other hand because nobody can touch her quite like you.

she will **** herself with loneliness and then resurrect with her own scent.
and then she will do it again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

she will be weak and strong and bold and shy and mean and nice and everything in between.

she will grow. she will grow strong and tall.

and so will you.

and in ten years from now, when you run into her at the supermarket, she will ask about your marriage.

and while you’re there telling her about your wife, who is home with the kids, and your job, she will feel genuinely happy for you.

because she forgave you. she forgave you for walking away and she forgave herself for ever thinking she wasn’t good enough.

she will have realized by then that sometimes life will give you somebody just to watch you break when it takes them away from you.

and she will be okay with it.

and so will you.

but, she will walk away without telling you about her life because she doesn’t want you to hear it in her voice that she still remembers your birthday, and that birthmark on your right shoulder.

and that ten years ago, she had hoped you would run into somebody else and told them all about her being at home with the kids.

I remember the thunder
Cascading down your spine
The night that you told me
Our love was now all mine

I remember a bang
Then nothing else
I watched you
The magician
Work your last trick
And out from your hat
A serpentine

How could I not have heard the cries
How could I not have read the signs
Howling wolves come late at night
Procure their next delight

I was a paper plane
And you were the eye of the hurricane
I was a skeptic slip
And you were the robe beneath my feet
I was a butterfly with a fear of falling
And so you clipped my wings

You were the ink
Spread out on sheets of unused paper
Line after line
Stroke after stroke
Vestal canvas
Tainted over time

Now I grab your fingers
Now I run away
Now I'm swirling in slabs of sapphire
Falling wave after wave

Now I'm crouched beneath my sink
Crying
Now I load old pills in my gun
Take aim
And fire
Cremate all of
My desire

Now I walk on all fours
Primal
Sleeping on the debris
Of my defeat

And watch you sheathe your two front teeth to taint your next great masterpiece

you say it to me all the time
so quotidian
it simply falls off your
carefree laugh
and do i see the remnants
of a fear
clouded by memories of another
woman you loved
who brandished knives on your bed
carving the evidence of her inadequacy
into the skin your fingers caressed
the body whose every crevice you had
explored for eight years

you must see some of me
in her
a peppering of her in me
like the seasoning that the creator added
as a dash of spice
to the primordial broth from which
we both crawled
spoon to his lips and a
contented smile turning all his features
up up up

you blow it off
but she must come to mind
every time you hear
the diagnosis
the label

"Oh, she's bipolar?"

the explanation for every
single
*******
aberration in our behavior

but you know it's not just
a "Hello, My Name is _" badge
it is days without sleep
paranoia-fueled delusions as we
diverge from your reality
and exist on a plane that
you cannot access

we go to Away.

but you know
that somehow we are eerily present
at least to you
from your perspective
when inky black voices
scream terrifying bile
and a bloodlust builds in the center in our chest
and we can smell the metallic whiff
of every single knife
each nectar-sweet blade
in the entire world
and you want to be there

you want me to call you
so you can see me
writhing on the floor
unable to rise from bed even fueled
by that insatiable hunger for
my blood
to die
to not die
to not be

can you live with a ghost again