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i.
the strongest urge
to carve the word "home"
on your lips--
i have yet to discover why it pulses  within me, flaring up at every touch,
and leaving residual fingerprints on the inside of my skull.

ii.
was never really good at learning languages, but the french do know how to speak otherwise--
speaking in tongues (passionately speaking) is a pastime that looks right for our inquisitive mouths.

iii.
seal every promise not with pinky fingers, nor swears on holy bibles, or unfortunate gravestones--
no, please seal mine
with a kiss.
Obsessed with kissing.
 Jan 2015 Aerial McAdams
ThePoet
Your eyes are
my weakness
Your scent is
my proneness

Your lips are
my vulnerability
Your hair is
my susceptibility

Your voice is
my instability
Your touch is
my humility

Your lust is
my inferiority
Your love is
my superiority

©
 Jan 2015 Aerial McAdams
Emma
You
 Jan 2015 Aerial McAdams
Emma
You
You were like spring  
to the winter of my soul.
loving him is poetry
and kissing him is art.

i'm used to being the creator
but being created from the affection
in his hands
and sculpted from intimacy
is a feeling like no other--
he doesn't just look, he sees me
every stray brush stroke
every drawn line
every brilliant color,
down to my skeleton,
he strips me of pretense and glows
with acceptance.

i am a bared soul,
battered and bruised,
shaken and scarred,
but even so--

i'm something beautiful in a gaze
like that.
Exposed
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