Take me back to the South?
I rubbed a puppy but you made it live,
I held your hand and ego as a ghost rode *****,
I tasted your mouth
Your deep addictive kisses were salty ripe with hidden tears, expectations and confessions of fears,
You pressed me for affirmation with one foot out the door,
My supposition acquiesced to passion
Then, you disappeared

Now you’re here
Pressing me,
Asking me what do I want?
I need consistency, presence, commitment, and time.

What do I feel?
What I feel is
Soul mate attraction,
Unconfined by silence,
Driven, diving, biding
Ineffable, inexplicable, unconstrainable
Uncontainable love and lust
Intertwined and unbound
How do you feel?

Do you have clarity?
For me, it’s taking its sweet time
Dragging and compartmentalizing
The inner unraveling of the unforgiven knot of the unacknowledged
The unpolished
And unabolished.

What do I want?
Excuse me as I try to unpack the dusty boxes,
On my neglected shelves.
I’m not a stranger to love or lust,
But, I’m not a friend either.
I’m not an enchantress,
No siren here my friend.
Nor, am I an open book,
My closest companions are the choir of thoughts,
Who sing songs of loyalty, doubts and declarations,
I’ve wandered but
I want a true partner to walk hand in hand the path of a life mundane,
Stealing moments of hungry happiness, exquisite.

You break down my defenses
Despite all logic and suppression,
Fingers press into mind’s flesh,
Nails rake down your neck.
My heart pounds and my mouth rounds,
Warm wet worship,
Down the base of your inspiring ****.
Your groaning and growing elicit my complete attention,
And, focus my irreverent intentions
To unraveling the bead formed on the cusp of your tip,
Your palms trace the strands of my hair,
Your pleasure drives sated completion
Is it plans or preoccupations of hands?
Are you practicing yet?

For now, as you lament love lost
I’ll sit quasi patient,
Outwardly immobile and facetiously engaged
Damp wanting but waiting,
Quietly watching the two flames in my candle
As they melt and burn the wax around its’ wicks,
Hot but constrained
Destructive but contained.

I’ll be externally reverent for the life carefully molded,
Grateful for familial serenity
But, ever mindful of the calling,
Forged by sound, touch and taste
To an internal dereliction sung by our blue flame.

I don’t think I should write about you,
I think I should keep these thoughts to myself.
No one wants to read about what we once felt.
Is it therapeutic, or does it just make me miss you more?
Never mind, it doesn’t matter—I'm the one who shut that door.
Is what I miss even real, or is longing for you painting us with bliss?

You had the hours I could never find,
I needed silence—you required quick replies,
Patience isn’t promised just because it's implied.
Maybe I crave you because, deep down, I knew it’d never work out.
Your quiet chaos battled my loud catastrophe,
Succumbing to you was a kind of personal blasphemy.

Poinsettias wait for me
somewhere in Mexico
or maybe in a flower shop
somewhere near the border
red and green pointing at my chin
as I rise and thump
the rocket away
up to Heaven
down to Hell
waiting for the consolation
from the milk of the poppy
when it comes — be ready baby
give me all that swoon
those Aphrodite curves
laying on a bed of autumn leaves
your welcoming mat greets
the mud on my boots on December 24th
Portugal's knocking at the door
darling, give me all that I'm owed by the gods
I'll give you your due as well
my body craves yours
but not for the reasons of the hook
hanging by a chain and holding meat
as blood-soaked white apron butchers
chop ***** on metal tables with meat cleavers,
and clean the sweat off their foreheads.
No, not for those reasons at all
I'm beyond all that, I'm beyond ***.
the reason I crave your body
it's because the raindrops
fall from the sky and elope with the earth
filling the grass where crickets
drink and get drunk holding their mugs
cricketing their songs of better days to come,
bird nests soaked in eggs
that are required to be sat on
huevos demand to be nurtured by heat,
Tupperwares fill to the brim
left for stray cats to dip their whiskers in
and dry food becomes wet food
revealing all the whispers that they leave
on that makeshift bowl.
all things that should be left alone
yet aren't — rain won't let them be
that's the reason
love.

I confuse lust for love
Mistranslating tight holds and neck kisses as signs he chose me
That he wants me, not just wants me
My lust, i just want your love

Adorned of cuts and bruises,
The temple of worship
A shrine to her. For her.
Lips tracing bones that stay beneath skin,
Breathless, abandoned in beliefs.

The only belief is this.
What this is,
Who this is,
The trails across skin that lay wake to stories.
A nurturing self image,
Wrapped in lustful demise.

It could end you.
It could eat you alive.
You'd let it. You always do.