A soft kiss placed in the right spot while wrapped gently but firmly in your arms… it is the gateway to all my pleasures. Your gentle touch is the inspiration of my depths. To be treated as precious inside your passion is the bloom of my ache. The everyday of our connection is more; it becomes the wild secrets that explode between us in the middle of the night—that keep us up into the wee hours when we are apart. Never underestimate what moves me to say “yes” to even the unspoken wishes you hoard; it is you and always will be.
tucked in the heart…
It is a dangerous thing to follow your heart
because that is where you will find me,
tucked inside.
my swirling wants…
I practice the art of not being chosen in all the ways that happens.
It follows me as a drumbeat set in rhythm to each step,
lightly tapping against my ribs.
I sing in counter melody;
the clouds keep forgetting the chorus.
Everything has become simple.
The perfection of light reflects deep and true.
I close my eyes against the shade and finally see;
memory, a key to a series of finicky handles.
I have seen Beautiful.
(Your pulse is proof.)
I have inhaled Almost-Promise.
I have screamed secrets to the moon:
Besides the wind,
I want only your hands sliding along the smoothest of my inner thigh,
a delicate slip and slide beneath my flitting skirt.
Sometimes our prayers sound exactly like chipping teeth.
Lovers prove false when
re-made in the image of (small) lifetimes built
upon pyres fueled: guilt, fear… shame, and more.
(I think I have a list somewhere around here.)
There is no coming quite like the certainty of going
and staying.
But I am not waiting;
I set down that map long ago,
even before you walked in and out the door.
The unknown:
may it be more than enough,
the very essence of our breath,
the very best yet.
open, unending, free….
reap the whirlwind…
Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance, shaped like a globe, which we turn about in our fingers. Let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical story, so that when one matter is dispatched – love for instance – we go on, in an orderly manner, to the next.
— Virginia Woolf —
the best way to know life…
let it loose…
The truth is like a lion.
You don’t have to defend it.
Let it loose.
It will defend itself.
— Saint Augustine —
last night i sang…
I’m fighting myself. I know I am.
One minute I want to remember.
The next minute I want to live in the land of forgetting.
One minute I want to feel.
The next minute I never want to feel again.
— Benjamin-Alire-Sáenz —
i’d love to, but only with you…
