i can't write when i'm sick lonely lost and lovely thinking of you
fading into my sheets for the whole day and the sun was too bright on my face
and i'll eat donuts until the flu decides to say goodbye, farewell
and i'll choke up powdered sugar dancing on the stairwell
singing songs about loving you
i don't think i needed to say it
i think you already knew
a portrait of your mother behind my swollen eyes
does she know we spent the night living between each others thighs
we walk with bottles between our fingers
dipping our toes in cold water
the bridge lights up, the reflection is its daughter

It was always going to be black and white
that's the typeface on my preference of late
defining day and night with your choice of tights
those fine dividing lines on your partnered limbs
wrapped tall in belts daring as a Lara Croft climb
a silky striped raggedy ann gone neat sensuous
tight strapped to a two striking sinuous princess
committed to lodge sins inside my Loveland challenge
hemmed in round towers together to never-never unhinge

at home we horse around and rub along together
boosted by the interplay between cotton twill gathered
pulled low one side then canter balance riding high
as you level up to a line up of outbound thigh
saddled with a lovely leg stirrup over here
and a lean waist wobble to match up there
eyebrow lifts to starch arrowroot attention
over the swings and sway of every action
so swift I play catch-up each morning
delayed by fumbling for ones gone matching
it's a wonder you don't just wander away
in a daze from my one legged hopping display

then I would travel far as a bee
long-legged as stilts could be
to sing to your nails and feet
and be spun free flaunting
our google
a red white and blue
pair of giggles unfurled like flags
in your slim line dancers' legs
dangling ideas like fair weather socks
to goggle one direction behind your back
unique like nobody else contains within
thin licked then rolled back ciggie skins
so I pinch holes in the bacci parts
sinking into slats like leaky wooden boats
your avoiding tiptoes gadfly and curl in return
my feet undoing knits with swats and swirls
toeing tinkling notes like piano keys
undertones pink tinged with tingling knees
and when a jukebox plays
my coins are there always
for I've got your pop socks in motion
your vox populi's united under my skin
with impressive pulled tight bands
embedding imprint elastic rings
inky red slinking down
leaving parallel links


ignore my pins and needles
alone in dead of night
longing for your leggings
luminous stripe tights
today it's all me put on the spot
today it's music you might hate
biographies of people you don't like
subtitled movies too deep to bother
blue jeans dull dyed against your garter belt
a one man team can't DIY a drill majorette
spiralling shafts that come to a threaded point
enthralling with alternating knee bend bit pants
so pretty poly soft I'm pulled up like a fool
fully mixed up by your weaving cotton wool
wave me down in your way of sweet patter feet
a patterned cakewalk for you to catwalk sock it
to me in a stand in posey kind of way
this way to stand outs knitted to fancy
uncross your legs and cross-stitch
my path with gaited kisses
closely

What I really want to know,
Is while her frock flies to and fro,
Have you really seen her knees?

Her toes are an absolute pleasure,
her ankles are fun to measure,
Despite all this fun at leisure,
I'm a stranger to those knees.

She'd rather charm and please,
Tantalize, tickle and tease,
Than show those blasted knees!

And when I tell her so-
She'll display her elbow
and say "They're just the same,
with a different name".

Some day in her eyes, lemon I’ll squirt,
then quickly tear the hem of her skirt
And take a good look at those knees.

Spoon is car yellow air,
Taste the run run bare.

Lie, lied, liar, stare,
Swoosh, arr...  I eye dare.

Seven ate nine,
Do you want green legs and lamb?

Stop pew pew mue mu ahh..    ****,
I am not a cat but a mue mu ahh... ****.

Why are you still reading this crap?

Just as the stars lay sparkling in her eyes
so does the night's beauty shine
in her smile.
the moon's light dances in her hair and clings
to her like a perfume of
beauty;
radiance bathes her.

Grace falls on her
as she moves, caressing
my eyes with pure, elegant, perfection.
How can she be compared to anything?

Her legs,
waist, forming the perfect
curves
as they slide into her hips,
and what lies
between
such womanly accents.

oh, how I long to be there,
where she is.
how I long for her
secrets
and long to reveal mine to her in
full.

Nothing hidden,
nothing kept
away.

she does steal my heart with
glance from such
light, twinkling eyes
as they silently say,
"Come and get me"
they
lure
and I
want.

Oh how I long to be there,
where she is;
to share all our secrets
and to
be
one.

I climbed up the stairs
having switched off the light
My legs took the steps in pairs
my eyes hadn't adjusted yet to the night
The beat of my heart goes higher
I stop and close my eyes
Waiting for it to tire
not thinking about what lies
                behind me.

I love all parts of you just as I love you as a whole.

Your eyes are not your eyes.
        They are nets for light,
                catch-all-that-catch-can,
                and catch they do.

Your nose is not a nose.
        It is line and curve
                in your silhouette;
        Immediately recognizable
                and just as soon loved.

Your skin is not skin.
        It is flat and rolling prairie.
        It is not porcelain, but pocked,
                scarred and lovely.
        Sand on the beach that begs to be touched.

Your hair is not hair.
        It is thick forest
                Dark and deep.
        When I run my fingers through,
                I cannot help the rush of comfort.

Your legs are not legs,
        They are crooked columns
                of tendon and muscle,
                    cartilage and bone.
        They carry you to me.

Your arms are not arms.
        They are air.
        Strong as wind when wrapped around,
                and soft as a breeze when alighting on skin.

Your torso is not a torso.
        It is a trunk.
        Solid and beautiful.
        You are my tree and I lean against you.

Your mouth is not a mouth.
        It is a cave,
        Dark but warm
                and full of secrets.

Your hands are not hands.
        They are mirror twins,
                Machines that create and destroy.

And the ring on your finger is not a ring.
        It is the invisible oath;
        the promise that hangs in the air
                   and binds you to me.