I feel like a drink
to wash down the burning intensity of anger and frustration
Temporary feelings of momentary exasperation

I don't expect for you to truly see
what precisely is going on within me

The texture of
My lips

Slur the notes
That drape my hips

Staccato
Across my midline

Crescendo
Look for us

I’ll let you be my prism
I’ll be your muse
Don’t you ever forget
I’ll always love you

I don’t know why they say
“Be careful, they are just words”
What if
Words are all I want from you
Master of mined legends
In this time and place we can no longer be close
I am happy in the company
Of such beautiful words

Vibrantly hazy
lazy
soothingly distructive
source
The inner one
Leaving traces are the best ways
to find your way home

I love the country life,
in between the feral cats
and hawks.
Morning coffee March
I sip it with Irish crème and  smile.
Last night I fell
asleep inside her.
Safe and sound
and domesticated in her
tight wet walls.
We came together in
determined silence.
Family in the next
room.

I love the country life;
the ponds and streams and
sun soaked meadows.
The wild asparagus and
gooseberries.
In her arms my spirit rests.
My tired wings
find a nest better
than the barn swallows,
stronger than the eagles.
I'm a brook trout
swimming through
her veins.

I love the country life.
Coonhounds and cornflowers,
coyotes yipping and
bobcats tiptoeing up on
shocked field mice.
Last night, after we died
a little in each other's arms,
I gently rubbed her
cheek and kissed her
eyelids, nose, and lips.
I breathed in deep the
smell of lavender, ***, and
home, the safest
fragrance I know.

My mind strays to you and my body soon takes over,
It trembles and ties those tight strings of sensuality,
A fleeting thought of you sets ablaze my heart like leaves in October,
To know the touch of your dear hand is to know sunlight's reach in a dark reality.

The memory of your gaze is like a gilded horizon,
Tastes of sweeter days rest on my tarrying tongue,
I can be cold but you are warmth and you are not forgotten,
Ours is beautiful, very melodic, just waiting to be sung.

In her deadly
blue eyes, I fall down the
rabbit hole.
Down
down
down I go.
I hit the
earth like a
mock turtle on its
back;
with a smack;
like a shot to the vein.
She travels through my
bloodstream with the
force of a mad tea party.
Her hair is dormouse soft.
I touch it, and feed
her tarts, as she
rides me like
a guillotine;
sharp and final,
with a purpose;
like a porpoise with a
fish hook in
its mouth.
I hold on tight
and never let go.