Old lovers – they smolder,
But new flames burn;
      (Melded and Molten,
      Alloyed and Emboldened)
together, they solder -
all that I wished to discern.

In slow heat, in simmering embers
The mind cherishes, what the body remembers.
But in a warming blaze
In a fleeting phase
To ashes, to ashes!
My will - surrenders.

Up in flames! In plumes, in fumes!
You scorch, you scald, you willfully consume!

But I admire your fire,
Your fury, your desire,
extinguished too soon
upon our unlit pyre.

Warm my home, my hearth
My Heart!
Warn my heart --

it is worn.

I was wont to do
What you want to do
Won’t you want me,
To be as wanton as you?

I awaited your touch, but it did not caress,
It sought instead a frightening abyss.
Uncleaved was I, and sheathed were you,
And yet, I felt plundered by you.

You sank in deeper than beauty or bone
your heart a loan, your heart alone
Come, come, come till you dissolve
Your sediments, grainy sentiments —
Swirling within my own.

But once you have settled, and I’m transparent
The change in us is intimately apparent
You bear in mind, my bare mind,
And mine bears witness to your soul errant.

Undress me, undo me and you will find
Just another skin, of another kind
A kiss, a touch, and a repetitive sin
Memorable, forgettable, like all akin.

So take me clothed, fabricated, and layered,
Take me in suede, in laid, textured and tailored,
Find me in seams, in pleats, in folds.
Unstitch me, unthread me, and
wrap me around your soul.

Weave me a tale, tie me a knot.
In yarns of hope, I yearn for naught

But you left me undressed
And you left me distressed,
Shrouded in the unknown
Of my threadbare unrest.

‘Twas a sultry night, when you solemnly inquired –
“Would you like to have a piece of meat?”
A conscientious vegan like myself, rarely required
such unwarranted delicacies to eat.

Startled as I was, to myself I reasoned:
” it’s not as if I indulge every day –
and if a prime rib beckons, so perfectly seasoned
then even I’m allowed to go astray ”

you proffered to me, a choicey cut
Yet I waited for the perfect buy-ins;
lean and trim, the steaks were high, but–
the deal was only for the tenderloins.

Alas dear reader, that is where I mistook
my desires for a saucy brisket,
for in truth it was that I fancied the cook
but such emotions to flourish – I couldn’t risk it.

To grill is a skill that must be honed –
To be well-done is indeed so rare!
the merriment came not from being T-*****
though it wasn’t half bad, to be rather fair.

And oh my dear you had me speared
upon your metaphorical spit,
and thus Impaled like kabobs I seared,
upon fires of desires that befit.

One such night, I denied myself a meal
thinking it to be fine and dandy
what did it matter, venison or veal
when in truth, I wasn’t really randy

To my shock, what I had thought was written-
as my appetite for fleshy delights,
was instead that I was undoubtedly smitten,
indulging my fancies in the chef’s invites.

Oh then I realized, I was in a stew
of a situation I never appraised
My untimely declaration sent your spits askew
When I said I want you preserved, not braised.

And of course, as I knew, you shook your head
said kinds words and went on ahead
But dearest, nigh a mo’ had I expected more
than being hastily pushed out of the door.

For cooks cook, but must not be mistook
for another entree to be had, for sure.
The dish is what the cook will cook
but the cook is not the dish d’jour.

Cured I was of such carnal an error
much wiser a decision I’d made I wish
for a recipe for disaster is every chef’s terror
when a patron, as I, butchers a perfect dish.

A lesson I learnt, one you taught so fast
’twas not a lesson in grilling —
but to choose a more delectable repast
one that thought that I was equally thrilling.

But to be fair, I give credit much deserved
to a palatable person as you
for Grade A and gourmet are commonly served
and yet only to you I succumbed without ado.

For as a vegan, I religiously abstain
from undue pleasures of the flesh
yet while the romps of meats were not in vain
I paid my compliments only to the chef…

I have sought You in bits and pieces,
because You are scattered across souls;
I have possessed the places Your heart leases,
for I have not found You as my home.

Do I seek You in those whispering trails
that silhouette my velvet skin –
as prayers and penance, when all else fails
to disrobe me of my mortal sin.

Do You kiss my fingers as strands of beads,
that I touch upon in times of need;
in hopes that You will grant me grace,
or embrace me with Your graceless greed.

Do I find refuge in Your vaulted heart,
with idols that idle in your wake;
in sermons, in summons, Your will You impart,
only Yours to give, only Yours to forsake.

And what of in temples that You have built,
in Your name, of Your fame that You have distilled —
those towering minarets that I cannot breech,
resigned only to altars at which You preach.
A covenant, I covet
with the revenants above it —
Your Altar
Alters You —
my haunting Beloved.

I have sought You in the most essential of ways;
in touch, in taste, in the most sensual displays.
Between covers,
Did I discover
You in a supine repose?
A restive being,
at rest in being –
fated only to my
depthless prose.

Find me, You say, I am yours to find.
A part, never apart, we are seamlessly entwined.
Long for me, for us, and for our Eternal Affair —
For, my Beloved, ours is not a caravan of despair.