I run to my ceramic throne,
I feel it coming I groan.
I take my seat,
Try to ****,
To no avail,
I feel terrible.
I push more and more,
My face red, my  *** sore.
One last push,one last try,
A deep breath, a loud cry,
"Who let the dogs out, woof woof,
Out you come, you goof,
Something dropped,
It  worked,
Heard a large plop.

My arms stretched around her.
She rose like a flower.
Blossoming to life.
Her lips a bud.
Flourished full.
I a reddish ceramic.
A reminder that we are grounded.
She filled where I felt most empty.
On certain days she would dance in my arms.
Painting my cheeks rose red.
Creating foundation we both can grow.
Her trust being the ultimate gift.
Arms wide open she dug deeper.
Without soil, water or sun.
I'd stunt her growth.
Our self love being reason to how we feed each other.
Blooming the petals of what became ideal.
I gave without fear that the vase would break.
Butterflies loom over her head.
Watching her grow was the most important thing

The echo of your soft sound
muted,
                     there are cars around

Textured surface, I can feel it now
the valleys rise while the soil forms mounds


and here you are now.

Colder than ever but only from warmth

Kiln of my love
for I have found.


My masterpiece

I miss the feeling of clay under my hands
A spinning wheel, my foot on the pedal.
The rough silver plate always sands
Down the skin on my hand but I don't mind

I can build vessels out of the earth
Pulling cups and bowls up from the ground
In this instant, my hands are worth
A thousand vases glazed in gold

I dip them in thick buckets of color
And place the ceramic uncertainties in the furnace
We both come alive in fire
And emerge even stronger than before