the saddest poem…

…I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

—Pablo Neruda—

manuscripts….

 My love, hear me, know this to be true:

My skin is the poetry of your touch
Our story is sung with every moan that spills from my lips
And when you come deep inside me
my name becomes a rite of passage on your soul

handle with care…

handle with careOh my fuck, I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand
not touching you.
I can’t stand not feeling your eyes on me.
I need to touch you
and be touched by you.
I need to hear you moan as you watch my pleasure.
I need to taste you with my everything.

so
.
many
.
needs

So, when I grab your hand and lead you into the bedroom, it’s not on sudden impulse; my tug is a longstanding ache of horny that has been needing you in unspeakably hot and naughty ways.

i am hunger…

i am hunger 1i am hunger 2

All night you waited for morning,
all morning
for afternoon,
all afternoon for night;
and still the longing sings.

—Ruth Stone—

 

 

A taste of you slipped
into me
like moonlight in a
locked church.

—Janet Lees—

the final frontier…

I drank her silence
like liquor
and it destroyed
me the same,
but I fell for all of her,
hopelessly and endlessly.
My soul will always be liftedthe-final-frontier
when she walks into the room
and my blood will always dance
when her breath
passes through me.

— Christopher Poindexter —