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—

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 —

this and that…

this and that

Tonite, my pussy thrums. I will slip out of my sexy lace thong. I will slide along the warmth of my folds and marvel. (This amazes me: how soft am I!) I will slide my fingers along, around, inside and out pleasuring myself, thinking of this and that – attached to you. And the scent of my juices will sugarcoat the moans of each breathy cum I make.

stumbling is not falling…

reach deep
through the muck of time
sing
proclaim the past your friend
the present your lover
eat what is to come until you are full
change the lightbulb
not for what your next step might be
but for the room you have just entered
see the marvel that is space-to-be-filled

space to be filled