I only prayed to the moon after it rose beyond
my window, the white sill a frame for waning
crescents and gibbouses--milk-drowned gods
dripping stars as they climbed skeleton branches--
some nights resting behind flood-heavy clouds.
People say the moon has a face, but
I have yet to see it sneer at my sins even as it tastes
my ocean-drop tears, evaporated into sky-bound veils,
brushed along the shadowed craters ...

The moon itself bemoaned imperfections in midnight
wind creaking branch against branch until I woke
slow from sleep--sad light staining my walls
pallid, pale as my own skin, glowing in muted
television shows left running while I dreamt
the moon spilled a star between my ribs--
dim luminescence radiating warm,
and the star, seeping through my pores, thawed
the ice I had prayed to melt in the first place.

I would build an altar with which to worship you,
    your beauty, your sensuality and your love.
You truly are an angel,
    my heart.
Such a remarkable woman.
You can never  know the depth of my love for you as words and actions alone cannot capture it,
    yet I will try.

When did i become so
Complacent
So content with where I am
When I shouldn't be
My passion has died
The embers slowly fading
And with no one to light them but myself
Who knows if that flame will rise again
I want to burn for something
Someone
Myself
For what I love
What do I love
I need to be fanned, fed and set on fire

I can't get enough
You are becoming the air I breathe
The water I drink
The food I eat
My sustainment

But you'll be gone soon
I'll suffocate
Die of thirst
Starve
My oblivion.

I hear the woman underneath me.
She’s sore, tired.
Worn out from some
other man, I’m sure.
She croons in my ear.
Make love to me, she whispers,
take it easy, nice and slow.
Not too much, not too much.

And the man at the bar next to mine,
talking to the bartender,
cautiously ordering a drink.
Can’t have too much, he says,
can’t get too drunk, he says.
Not too much, not too much.

It seems everyone is taking
it slow these days. Too much
caution for this shotgun
existence. Too much fear. You can
smell it on them like cigarette stench
from a guilty smoker.
Everyone is rolling up their windows,
staying indoors, under the covers.
No one lives much anymore.
Not too much, not too much.

I down my drink at the bar and
break the man’s nose.
He doesn’t fight back when
he gets up. I spit and walk out.
Home to the woman and
she’s crooning in my ear.
Not too much, not too much.
I am violent and rough and she hates me,
I can see it. Still, when it’s over she leans
towards me and asks if I love her.
She says it with hurt eyes.
“Well, do you!?” she cries.

Not too much, not too much.

We were perfect yesterday. Making up for lost time and affection.  
Bridging a widening gap we could both feel.
We ate, but as picky as you are..who knows.
We indulged in happy hour at nearby restaurant.  
Talked to our friends.  
Hung all over each other.

I loved the way you looked at me. I glittered in your eyes.
I shivered when you ran your hands up and down my legs, grabbing my hand.
And I still get so nervous to have you so close to me.
Like you'll shatter if I touch you first.

When I took you home, it was magical.
Our embraces were more than physical.
We continually lost ourselves in each other.
Had to actively pull back into the real world, lest we forget the sound of cicadas and pretend the rooftop of my car was a bed.
I throbbed for you, so hard it was painful.
Biting my lip kept me from becoming an animal.
When you kissed me, and your hands found themselves holding my face, my body dissipated.

All that was left existed for you.
To keep your lips against mine, your body melded to me, slipping perfectly into place
It was a whirlwind of raw emotion.
You caused a dizziness, glazed over my vision.

It was hard to walk back down the stairs.
My steps were concentrated so I wouldn't fall on my face.
I don't remember the drive home because you consumed my thoughts.  
You're invading me.
Dancing along  my soul and tearing down my barriers.
I can't get over the shock.

My most recent lover, she's a character. Some days I love her enough, other days it just doesn't cut it.
I need you to show me, she says.
Convince me, she pleads.
I blink and I feel the confusion cross my face.
Don't I caress you?
Don't I adore you with my eyes?
Don't I smile at you in hopes that you're just as happy to see me?
Don't I wish that we could spend the day talking and laughing, till the sun finishes it's daily visit?
Till the moon darts through the clouds and seeps through my window?
Don't I write you poems?
Lyrics from my heart that explain my confusion?  
Don't I text you just so I can feel my phone vibrate in response?  
Don't I ignore the world when we talk?
What more can I say or do?
Convince me, she says.