I wouldn't simply flick the brush
in regards of painting you;
You're more than that to me.

I'd stare up high looking at the real ones
and use them as reference,
to at least be able to paint you in the same league...

You've captivated me
unlike any other nebula I've seen.
To the point, that urging myself to look away
and move on comes to the scene—

Because my mum told me
to never look at the sun directly.
Funny, how I never listen
knowing I got blinded by you.

However,
I also think of you as the moon.
Cold and very far away,
Unable to reach you.
I'm no astronaut,
But if I could—I would.

You've got me wishing for you,
Like lovers longing for each other.
But you are a star,
and I am but a man.

I'm nowhere near
the level of other women,
I'm mediocre at best.

But, I would have painted you better
than any other woman could.

Strange to think
How many men have known your body
And I know in my heart of hearts
That none saw you the way I see you
I'm probably a fool
To say this

I felt that you had revealed yourself to me
And me to you
When we woke up in the morning
Sprung out of bed fresh
Clean, new, sweet
And took in each other's forms
With such splendor and delicacy
Wrapping you in my arms
While you wrapped me in yours
And a completeness I'd never known
Blew through me
As your lower belly expanded
Deep, full breaths into mine
Inviting me to release
Womb to womb
Cheeks breathing puffs of air
Beside each other
I've never known a fuller love

A shy 'wow' from your mouth
At the sight of my curves
Holds my heart in suspense

No man has ever seen me the way you did
And many men have seen me well
With eyes that see me only the way they can
But you saw me with a tenderness
Only woman can express
And I believe I saw you the same way

The secret language of women
Who love women
Know that I saw you as only my eyes can
In the caves and forests
In the soft moss of my mind
Near the bubbling creek
In the rivers and sweet leaves of fall
The bending stems of wild flowers
In summer wind
I saw you

And through my death,
I have been initiated by the dark goddesses that dance under the forbidden moonlight,
into my birthright,
to truly be alive.

Two moths fluttered across one another's paths
before the breaking of dawn.

One of the moths mistook the other
for a butterfly from a distance,
but the closer they flew towards each other
the moth knew that there was no difference between the two.

At first, the older moth thought the younger was a mirage of herself.
But this moth that stood before her was not the moth herself,
but rather a version of herself that she had shed long ago.

The older moth told the young moth masked as a butterfly
that she must shed her false skin
so that they could fly to the moon, where they were both destined to go.

She offered to show this moth hidden beneath the façade
a path to her true destiny,
but the younger moth flew beneath the healing rays of the night
and descended into a world where she would never be accepted for her true essence.

In the end, the young moth flew to the sun and eviscerated into the fires of her own suffering.
The stars of the night burned bright for the loss of a soul who could not see that her beauty would have shined through any night.

Meet me there,
in the Elysian fields that
hold us between a mortal and immortal time.

Meet me beneath the moonlight beams,
and I will wait for you in the moonlit crest banks
as the gentle rains of the night
transform to the thunderous cries of the gods.  

Meet me there, my love.
Beneath these facades of skin and bone,
our souls call to one another.
I have known you in a place beyond space and time.

So come home to me my love,
and let us sail to the shores of our fateful bliss.
I shall love you through the storms of time,
if only you allow me to hold your hand in mine.

I remember
how much I loved you and wanted you
but I couldn't ever express it
and I was always taught that it was wrong
to love a girl
like I did
when I was so young
it still rings in my mind
trying to convince me to feel shame
but I know that what I felt for you was real
and I can't ever share it with you
or know if you ever felt the same
for you are married
and you hurt me in such a deep way
but I still miss you so so much
I always wanted to be you and to be with you
you were always so so beautiful to me
I have always tried to get over you
but maybe a childhood love
is hard to get over
you were the one who made me
find the word
that I know was my truth
that maybe I am bisexual
now I try to not label myself
for this label too has caused me pain
I love souls I love energy
I love people
I am trying to forgive you and to let this pain go
and maybe one day we will talk again soon.

How I long to be touched by you,  
body and soul.
How I long for your lips
to press against mine
and wash away the fear of our fleeting time.

Your beauty is ineffable;
it would be a disgrace
for the world not to glimpse at the divinity
that is written upon your face.

How I long for your skin
to give warmth to mine
as you drench me in your silk
beneath satin sheets.

How I long for the parts of you
that will not be washed away with time.
Oh How I long for the woman that has bewitched my mind.

her boogie woogie,
boot and scoot.
her goo bosh vibe,
so small and cute.
silly little Anju stomp,
unaware of self.
bite taken from a chocolate,
stolen from a shelf.
when we are free from this life
we will run in fields
and see the sunset and the joy
life with you yields.

Shapes shifting through the sheets
of paper, in my dreams
soft pillow seams, we move like a gentle
firey breeze -
your shape consumes me.

I have never seen volcanoes, yet my
thoughts erupt in shapes.
What is it to desire a shape ?

A venetian spell of curved brushes to cheeks,
dreaming of the days and weeks I could
lay, still, yet volcanic, staring opposite your face, in embrace and tracing your skin with my finger.

Like a brush stroke,
my muse

what is it to loose the memory of a body?

Every trace and touch
each mahogany blush
within the rush of lust,
a cosmic trust between body to body
and mind, to the Hearts’ justice.

A sketch,
first love.
I cloak and glove the painting of you
moving through new shapes away from
view, yet sometimes with solemn and blue, sly Fate washes water-coloured visions and crimson hues through my mind and i’m reminded of each line, curve and shape.

Oh desire ! What a profound honour
to know a body beyond shape.