To love is to know,
And to know is to love ,
A bond sacred by intimacy,
Not birthed by erratic physicality.
No touch, no kiss, no hand I could hold,
Could warm the emptiness of my heart, so cold.
Two hearts torn
a broken hello from opposite sides of the world,
Our love simply lost, not permanently lorn.
Not by your kiss, not by your hold,
Will new love emerge from the fettered old.
I miss the warmth of your words
Their tantalizing embrace
Bonding immeasurable next to mere attraction of face.

my body is missing something
so i try to cover it in more fabric
bright colors and dark colors
skin tight or loose or covering no skin at all
but still my body is missing something
so i try to drink something
water or soda or juice or gin
i try wine so maybe my tongue will taste
as bitter as i feel
but still my body is missing something
so i scrub it
i place it under a steady stream of water
and i lather it in soap and i scrub away
until surely i must be brand new
but still my body is missing something
so i eat and devour
sweet and salty and bitter and comforting
and it sticks to the roof of my mouth
and i think maybe that’s what it was
but still my body is missing something
my body is craving something
i think it just wants
to be different.

learning to be
aware of how to hold
my physical being
creeping into the christening
resistant fingers and toes
curled inward in fear
driven by woes

Black hole kisses
******* me out of myself.
Kisses wrapped in hugs.
Intimate moments at intimate times.
Memories to treasure
On a cold winter night.

We once played a New Year Game
In which you kissed a girl
Then swopped her with another:
Twenty or so kisses
To compare.

One kiss so wide
I could hardly stretch
To meet it.
Ending up
Trust me,
With the big fat unresponsive one
Too drunk
To even know
She was being kissed.

Recall one time being coolly kissed
Politely:
A kiss that said
In no uncertain terms –
If you want passion
You’d better go elsewhere
My dear.

For kisses are like handshakes:
Some firm and friendly;
Others too hard
Or too limp.
The young don’t always get it:
Lettuce limp
With their customary hands.
Physical expression
A dying art
Like conversation
In this digital age
Of mobile phones
Snapchats
And Insta-Images.

Time to rekindle the past,
Go back to playing out –
And away!
Get mud ****** mucky
All gloves off.
Back to Basics,
That’s The Way.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\2\2019.

Once an addict, always an addict.
Not me, but in you.

Some thing’s will never change.
You’ll have need to chase that crave.

But my love will continue to glow.
Even after you have broken my heart.

My arms will forever stretch out.
To hold you in them.

But my head won’t let you win.
Let you control it anymore.

My heart won’t let you bruise it.
My soul won’t let you devour it any longer

But I will always love you.
But I will never love the addict you.

Some things have changed on the outside and in.
Body is no longer curve less and thin.
Hair is choppy on most of the ends.
Short enough to reach just below my chin.

Some things have changed on the outside and in.
Resilience and strength rise from within.
May sometimes be foolish, may sometimes be sin.
But I know whose I am, and that is a win.

Some things have changed (oh but not this).
Not the way the sun sweeps across the eastern sky, signaling morning has arrived.
Not the way the moon sprinkles light where lovers hide.

Some things have changed (oh but not this).
Not the joy a baby brings when taking its first breath.
Not the flash of life once lived as approaching coming death.

Some things have changed (oh but not this).
Not the call to serve your own.
Not the fight to care for lives who have forgotten their true home.

Some things have changed (oh but not this).
Not the love for what is pure and true.
Not the hope that the Divine has rescued you.

Some things have changed (oh but not this).
Not this longing for seeing the innocent kids.
Have a chance in this world to experience bliss.
To have dreams without fear and to see crystal clear.
Their reflection, so beautiful, cherished so dear.
Those unaware of the sadness they share.
Are the sad ones themselves as reality bares with it anger and loneliness hid behind stares.
Stares so blank and so void that gravity cannot bear.
They find themselves in the black hole and stay there.
Unaware, truly and wholly unaware.

Many things have not changed (oh but not this).
From my sins, from within, I am made brand new.
For that is exactly what faith can do.
Not a preacher, a speaker or a song with a muse.
Not a seeker of praise from a million or two.
Just a girl with a laptop who decided to choose to speak with words that simply cannot be confused.
They cannot be anything else but the truth.
And that does not change all the time through.

I have a question of philosophy
That bears directly on humanity.
Are the feelings I feel so soulfully
A result of my physicality?

Are my emotions incorporeal?
If I had no body would I still feel?
Feelings may not be the pure soul ideal.
What I sense does make my emotions real.

And if emotions are ****** bound,
Love and compassion now seem so unsound.
Feelings are stirred by what I see around;
I think my spirit world is earthly bound.

We’re taught ****** drives are so impure.
I find comfort knowing that’s not so sure.
I shall no more resist the world’s allure,
For true love on earth is the only cure.