Changing gear,
     my mind is on cruise,
becoming clear,
     as I start to muse,
about love and lust, *** and sinning,
     I'm starting to grin
          and I'm settling in
for a show that is just beginning.

Changing gear,
     her dress on the floor,
becoming clear,
     her skin shows more,
of lust and love, sinning and ***,
     She starts to smile,
          and looking a while
at the poet who is lustfully hexed.

tight enough to hear my heartbeat in its seams.
Sir’s scissors slid up my thigh,
cold bite tracing the vein,
a slit opening like a whispered threat.
Safety pins hold the wound shut
for now.
The hem’s been hacked raw,
frayed strands kissing the tops of my stockings,
air licking skin that should be hidden.
Three shots of Chivas burn through me,
liquid courage, liquid sin.
I lean in close enough for you to feel my breath,
close enough for my lips to graze your ear,
and I say,
Some women wear lace for beauty.
I wear it to watch men bleed.

I told you no.
I should have walked away.
But I’ve been rejected so many times…
I think I’ve embraced the cause.

I should be a strong woman—
but what does that even mean?
Thinking only of myself?

Forgive me, my love—
next time,
I’ll open everything
I possibly can
for you.

Her body swayed, night’s mistress, hips caged in silk’s heat.
I froze—her lioness gaze, her eyes undressed.
A temptress sculpted by shadow, my goddess—complete
She grinned—my name, her voice, a purr—confessed.

I froze—her lioness gaze, her eyes undressed.
She pawed valleys, mounds—denim mines skin.
She grinned—my name, her voice, a purr—confessed.
The forest awakes—her fingers explore within.

She pawed valleys, mounds—denim mines skin.
On swimmer’s blocks—wet lycra stirs lioness primal lust.
The forest awakes—her fingers explore within.
I bared my pulse, then silence under her tusk.

On swimmer’s blocks—wet lycra stirs lioness primal lust.
The crowd drank in my form—a hushed gasp, then her ******.
I bared my pulse, then silence under her tusk.
I'm caged for all time by her thirst—for love, or just lust?

Twig on a tree through my window
knows sign language, I’m sure.
Branch fingers waving
to his lover across the road.

He bobs and bends in the breeze.
It’s a mystery to me,
why this waxy green tree,
with love in his leaves,
doesn’t leave his roots
and **** soil
from the same straw as his lover
across the road.

One day she’ll grow old,
wilt, then timber.
Will he remember
his failure to uproot,
to shoot a vine across a power line,
just to intertwine
for one moment
in time?

he always asked for permission.
not like a formality —
not the way someone asks
after they’ve already decided.
but like he meant it.
like my no
wouldn’t make him flinch.

and every time,
i said yes.
and felt his hands
move like they’d just been
gifted a map —
not to conquer,
but to understand.

even when his fingers slipped
under the hem of my shirt,
found the small of my back —
he paused.
and gave me a chance
to say no. it’s enough.

even when his hand
brushed against my bra strap,
barely there —
he whispered sorry,
as if the air between us
deserved an apology.

i didn’t ask,
if i could touch you
further up.

and that —
that’s what i remember.

not the way he kissed me.
not the taste of that night.
but the way his respect
intoxicated my mind.

looking back,
i think that was the moment
he opened me up,
let my feelings spill,
whilst keeping his own still.
and god.
i loved him for that.

Things are quite often NOT what they seem.
The lady in jeans was just on the scene.
She went before Johnny and found all his bling. When Johnny came home he burst on the scene.

The lady walked by him, and moved to his side. She giggled and smiled until he asked why. Her image a song, her beauty found out, but Johnny just stood there afraid of her pout.

Her dialogue winded, her need still unmet.
He wanted that lady and so the song went.
The lady, the one who had robbed him of thought.

The man, he just stood there and prayed to be “taught”. For when all was done, he caved and took haste. For the lady he wanted was gone without trace.

we play two rounds of pool.
he beats me twice.
now the air between us
is nothing but teeth and heat—
and in my head
he’s already got me
on the table,
thirsty for every part of me.

he grins, asks
exactly what i’m thinking,
and god,
he’s right—
it is too fast.
a week in,
we’re breathing
nothing but each other.

so i settle into his lap
just to rest my head,
to counteract—
this.
us.

but his mouth
finds mine,
and the world
tilts open.