There are roses in your
coming through the airwaves
your voice tingles
down my spine
and held in loving suspension
we are pure frozen in time
delayed gratification and
I can't believe the reward
my ears get hot and
tummy swims in circles
god before you
touch me i cannot
and i tell you this;
i cannot i whisper this
pleading into your eyes
i cannot my god
i moan this to you in surrender
taken over like the war
is over and now i'm melting
because you think
i taste so good melted
And i know there are roses
in your voice because
they bloom for me
from your tongue
velvet and soft for me
and then strong for me
rugged and firm like rocks
for me
your voice and your
attention my reward my reward my reward
I want you to feel
within your core im in awe
of you
im just arrested see?
watching your roses
im wide eyed, tied; take such pleasure
in arresting me
.
a poem for when the sounds i make with my mouth aren't the words of praise that I want to come out (especially in queerplatonic relationships and quasiqueerromantic friendships)... and a poem of gratitude for people who like to remind me of the things i don't need others' permission for. im so alive about that profound encouragement.