Gave a call.
Rang twice.
Mailbox full.
Gave another.
Rang five times.
Lady's voice.
Unavailable.
Shower time.
Maybe after?
Brooding.
Longing.
Wet.
Wrapped in towel.
Look at phone.
No missed calls.
Typical.
No surprise.
Forget the phone.
Forget the caller.
Return to life.

Ah, now I remember.
It was in those rare moments when you say something different.
Words weave in and out of your lips
but your eyes have the freshly stitched smile
like that of a child
listening to their favorite bed-time story.
Satin slips from your mouth,
wrapping around the beating murmurs
below my necklace
triangle yantra of Kali,
under a lacy leopard bra,
beneath the tattooed deviant octopus,
and soothes the palpitations
to a comfortable pause.
We don't always need air to **breathe.

I think I am
falling in love
with myself
again.

He doesn't like to skip pages
- I'll try to abide.
People like to talk,
- in books, I confide.
I wonder if this is legible,
or too riddled with pride.

When I was younger
my older brother
would turn the lights off
and whisper...
"DARK FOREST!"
In a deep and scary voice
and I'd flee the scene,
like I passed gas
and didn't want anyone
to know
it was me.