The smell of cigarettes remind me of you

So I smoke one

And another two

So I can taste you

So I can feel your kisses linger along my lips

So I smoke three

And another four

So my head can be rushed with memories of you

So I can feel you one last time

I cannot stop smoking

I cannot stop thinking of you

Will these cigarettes **** me first or you?

It was a fairly good run, while we had it

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.

in the same way
that a drowning man
wants air;

violently, desperately &
without reservation.

(That is to say)

I need you.

If I were a bird
you would have crushed
                                             my wings
in your grip;

too mesmerized by my
silent song
to notice the rapid beating
of my heart
against your palm
as I struggled

                                                to fly away.

At the end of the night
you will fly to her window
and kiss her goodnight
with lips that promise
forever,

but you will be back at my side
before her window has closed;

and I will follow your
laughing blue eyes
into the night

dreading
the next person
who will use my     
pixie dust
to fly into your arms

scenes from the night.
she gets up to draw in the curtains,
then walks back to the sofa
and falls back into it, floats really, back into soft white cushions.
she undresses slowly, pulls me onto her
her bra is on the floor,
her ******* are firm round pillows with a darkened bud,
tonight i'm all yours, she says,
she surrenders to those last words... i'm all yours.
we make love right there, her astride me,
in the favourite manner of ancient Greek poets.
very early in the morning
i wake up and she is still asleep, wearing my t shirt, wearing my boxers,
she is bound by twisted bed sheets, bound by her long dark hair.
i'm hoping she'll wake up soon, i'm hoping we'll have time,
just once more.
the sweetest smile when she wakes up
thighs and long, smooth legs,
her eyebrow twisted in a parabolic curve
yes, the unarticulated promise of sleek *** in the small hours of the morning.
then the day begins
and light crackles at the bottom of the curtains,
goodbye kisses are the ******* worst.

My muse, my muse,
She’s here right now
She just took a shower and her hair is still wet.
She's wearing a bathrobe, she walks up to the bed and sits
When she crosses one leg over the other I catch a flash of her thighs
Inviting thighs, long legs
She has pretty feet
And pretty ankles,
I always look at feet.
She has delicate wrists
She has long thumbs, here she is
Now leafing through a magazine
With those long thumbs,
Long fingernails.
Her shoes are on the floor, shoes that she wore last night
They've fallen over on the carpet,
My eyes find my way back to her
She seems to have found something interesting in the magazine
Here she is, concentrated on it, her back is straight
In this light, this natural light,
Without make up,
She looks impossibly lovely,
Renoir would paint her.

I get out of bed and walk into the shower.

There’s something strangely intimate
About taking a shower in a girl’s bathroom,
Shampoo bottles and hair conditioners all around me
Water cascading down my bare chest
Recollecting and replaying scenes from the night before:
Unbuttoning her jeans, pulling them off
Seeing her Hello Kitty underwear
And laughing, and thinking it was cute
And saying, umm… so how old are you again?
Humour always works, yes, humour always works.

I love ******* this girl.
It seems as though I'm always ******* her.
At night in the living room, on the sofa
Unfastening her stockings and slowly rolling them off,
Next her skirt, then her underwear…
Sweet parting flesh
I begin thinking of how it’ll be, how it’ll go down

She's always in something classy,
But man, it seems as though I'm always ******* her.
Sometimes I strip everything off her body,
But I ask her to leave her earrings and heels on; they confirm her nakedness
Hoop earrings
Red lipstick
Red heels
I lie in the middle of the bed, lights are dim, she climbs onto the bed
Curls up between my legs, begins by kissing on my stomach...
Great lovers lie in hell, the poet says.
Great lovers lie in hell.

I'm falling asleep afterwards, but not her
*** invigorates me, she says, tying her hair in a ponytail
This girl, she has the effect of lighting a matchstick in the dark.
She lays beside me and begins to read Jeanette Winterson
And just before I succumb to a deep slumber I remember something and tell her,
*Baby, baby, baby, your Morse code interferes with my heartbeat.