‪They play. ‬
The fingers when they slip into your hands, snuggling gently into their warmth reminding why touch isn’t always a screen that turns bright with fever, yet never turns on.

They feel.
The fingers when they slide into the countless caresses rippling down your pretty head, only parting so gently to reveal the forehead glistening with sweat and love.

They tease
The fingers when they ski over your naked skin revealing the tender pores in the slow shiverings and infinitesimal bumps that raise their Lilliputian heads and come alive.

They sing
The fingers when they feel your flirty lips and the tongue looking to mate darts out, to speak of stories that lie hidden behind the brightest shades stroked to life with perfumed wax.

They mate
The fingers when they feel your shivering thighs and explore the depth of your love making you moan in disbelief, figuring out what makes you love who you love and spill it all over.

"Feelings are malleable
stretch them out and wring
them in all shapes, roll

them to little *****, bounce them
around like overthinkers
do, then you see them

leap up like cocoons
in the bowl of your hand"
he says with wide gestures

on the limestone boulder –
paddles of thumbs
and laughing eyes

under the rooflets
of white eyebrow hairs
pushing straight forward

He gives me a wedge
of Gasparini's meringue
yet he still has all his teeth

I have *** on Sunday mornings
Tuesdays too
Well, any day I can to be honest
It’s just something I like to do
I don’t nip behind closed doors
Wrap curtains or silk sheets tight
I don’t need scented candles, whipped cream or Barry White
No-siree
I make love in wide open spaces
Without a whit of shame (We don’t own ****** veils or wear a family name)
No-siree
We’re too blissed out for who-called-who
Doped up on the intoxicating hue of shiny morning dew

Poetry is like my diary
I can tell her anything and everything
I can scream from my soul
In aching longing
Intense rage
Or sadness beyond measure
Perhaps it’s TMI
But I tell her my secrets
I tell her how you taste in my mouth
How you took the time to figure me out
How I love the feel of our own rhythm of life
Indeed no one else understands but who cares
My poetry, my diary, my life
It’s messy as hell

Hi
It's me again.
The girl who plays games With
boys and plays House
For pretend
A happy life
A picket fence
A dog and 3 make belief children!!
Hi
It's me again
The girl who you will play games with
I will make a House in your heart
In my head I love to pretend
A home
A singular light
A heart that I sit and listen for every beat
It's all apart of my memory
But you abandoned me
so I find
A new game to play
A new house
A new place for my heart to swing
Hi
It's me again and
I'm the girl who
Is addicted to playing pretend
M.D