Sometimes,
When I am troubled and alone;
I make my way into the kitchen
barefoot and naked
And pull out a steak from the freezer.

I boil a *** of tea while it thaws.
When it has,
I sip my too hot tea- spiced with cinnamon and vanilla,
And season the meat.

With pepper
and garlic
and salt
And then cook it in butter
To barely passed raw.

I place it on a plate of fine china
And set it on my dining room table
With no knife or fork
And sit in front of it.

Picking up the hot, soft meat in my hands
I tear into it.
Gasping against the heat,
Groaning at the taste,
Letting the brick dust colored blood
Spill down my chin-
Speckle my breast.

Sated and wet with beef blood,
I shower, braid and curl my hair, put on make-up and jewelry
And wear something soft and alluring.

I feel wild.
And the taste of vanilla and blood
Mingles on the back of my tongue.

I don’t know you
Its hard to
With a body -
Our only connection
-standing between us.

I think I like you.

You remind me of laughter,
The deep kind-
With belly rumblings like thunder
And lightening flashes of teeth-
Like storms over rough waters.

I am caught off guard when I think of you.

Sometimes,
The taste of sea salt
Or a certain shade of blue
Will call your memory forth.
The suddenness of it
Rocking me like a violent tide.

I don’t know you,
But I find myself content
With the surface and sandy shores of you.

I think that’s okay.

Vanessa was here-
Lying in your clothes,
Trying to catch your scent
And remember the taste of you
On the back of her tongue.

There are things,
Dark and secret things,
That hide in people.

Carving up the bone
And nestling in the marrow.
Sinking sharp claws in kidneys.

But you-
You darling of beauty, you diaphanous prism of light,
You cracked star shining-

You exist and therefore there is brilliance in the world.

You are a city of light
Set up on a hill for all to see.
All who come to you, are touched by your brightness.

You are a candescent and fiery thing.
Like the sun and lightning
There can be no shadows or true darkness near you.

And so,
Those who are empty-
Filled only with insubstantial night and shades,
With chiseled bones and a gloom that carries claws-
Recoil and lash out against you.

But you are bright, shining and marvelous.
Like the sun and lightning
You will again rise, and you will strike once more.

You are fire and a prism and a fortress of light.
You are glowing and brilliant and effulgent.
You are so very, very beautiful.
You are all things good.

Lady,
‘Fierce’ does not begin to plumb the depths of who your are.
Shine on.

Missing you feels like
A hole- emptiness inside.
Only heavier.

Isn’t it strange,
That when you smile
You let your bones show.

Love, be sweet.
Curve your lips for me-
I crave the intimacy.

It is too easy.
Much, much too easy
This falling and rising we do.

It leaves me hollowed.
Empty, like an autopsied heart, chambers no longer pumping life’s blood;
Or like the distended belly of some pathetic half creature fevered with hunger.

Don’t you ever feel that way?

Or do you glutton yourself on the rolling and rocking,
Feasting on the tides until you are consumed by vomitous pleasure?

This falling and rising.
This rising and falling.

This and this and this.

I am so tired of it all.
No more bile drenched lust or hearts seized by rigor.

It is simply a strange and listless pantomime of a thing now
And much too easy
To hold any worth.