it's nice to know that you think of me sometimes.
that my name forms on the tip of your tongue.
that i cross your mind.

it's nice to know that sometimes you might see something that reminds you of me.
it's nice to know that i'm still there,
that i haven't disappeared or gone silent in your head.

it's nice to know that i still matter,
even if it's only in the slightest bit.

after all, that's all i ever wanted.

(a.m.)

Naked you are simple as one of your hands;
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round.
You've moon-lines, apple pathways
Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba;
You've vines and stars in your hair.
Naked you are spacious and yellow
As summer in a golden church.

Naked you are tiny as one of your nails;
Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
And you withdraw to the underground world.

As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores;
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
And becomes a naked hand again.

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Sweet aroma drifts,
restlessly along the shores,
waiting loves return.

Tyra Banks was the first person
I touched myself to the thought of.
I didn't know what genitalia was
But her *******
seemed
so
inviting.