Her every word is something sweet. She speaks so sensibly and smiles, And cares like caring is a treat Too tempting to stay away from. To taste her mind would nourish you, And reason out those foolish tricks That frightened you into pushing away The parts of you you're missing. And beauty hardly describes her face; The life, the light behind her eyes That permeates in any place She goes to be alive in. She's sweet enough to drown in, To swallow down until you're sick. It's hard to put the bottle down When it insists you drink it. Apples and honey make a snack So tempting its hard to turn away. As one should never lack for love, Having lacked, it still gives me stomach pains.
Men, women, and persons;
You enigmas of violence, misery, sex, and boredom;
How are you feeling?
To what end is your violence?
To what depth does your misery brood?
What comfort have you found in sex?
What madness does your boredom uproot?
If you're honest, I would guess, every answer, some way, stems from love.
Acknowledge this with me if you expect my intimacy.
I need you to want a little sadness,
A mood for solemnity and a mood to let loose.
Have a few drinks with me and read to me from Camus,
And we can keep reserved within a golden light mood.
Cold, like the light reflected on the moon
As it illumines our bodies and tempers, and soothes.
I need you to want a little more
Than a body or a mind like mine could ever give,
With fanciful fears and desires you can’t forget
And a brooding reluctance and passion to live.
Days that should be swept away will come
When we lay collecting dust together, undone,
Till one of us decides we may as well have coffee
And we pull each other towards the day to be begun.
I need you to see my mind
The way I’ve already begun perceiving yours,
To note your weaknesses, strengths, and passions
So I might give assistance when it’s called for.
When I lose my place in space or time
And spiral into cacophonies of dreary thought,
I hope you’ll see the telltale signs
And have the courage to tell me what is and is not.
Romance, sex, companionship, and All,
Is a lot to ask and harder still to come across,
So I’ll ask if what you’re looking for is the same,
Because if it is, we may be able to reciprocate.
Some people can’t be reached no matter what you say,
Who probably wouldn’t care to feel your touch anyway,
And for all those who need, in some way, to be reached,
Our fingers might wave but they rarely ever meet.
In a dark windy heart there’s cracked glass in the rain,
Palms still untouched can be cut all the same.
Quieting the air with a gesture, I find
It helps, when you reach, to shield your hands with mine.
Those stinging cold moments with warmth underneath
Pour lakes into places overridden with dead leaves,
An Autumn-stained blush from a spring-tinted gaze
Briefly turn skies that were black back to grey.
There was a house in the woods
Bordered by a ring of brambles and thickets
Encircling lush ambrosial gardens
Fed from a narrow cascading stream.
It was concealed by enchantment
From the designs of outside eyes,
Untouched and immoveable,
Unfazed by the works of time.
There, knowledge distilled to one question,
That of pleasure between souls,
The unfurling of tangled psyches
Like fine beaded twine softly pulled.
It was home to several dozen
Who stole away from haunted homes,
Caught lost inside the darkest forest
And running from the world.
In place of statuses and structures,
There are faces always warm to you
And hearts always open
Never asking for or taking dues.
Nothing you thought you were
Or what others did to hurt you
Need go unspoken or lamented,
There’s time to attend your wounds,
And ambitions have all died
As did the barriers between minds.
The house that’s in the woods
Holds space for passions to spring alive.
I sip and think,
Drink, play something simple,
And dream my day dry.
Always talking in invented memories
Between us, our friends, and in secret.
Maybe your face
Has become the placeholder
For someone I never knew but needed.
Maybe I loved
Someone too intensely
Without extending it.
I never picture us having sex anymore,
But I can’t help imagine us being intimate.
We should pretend we just met,
And become friends again
With better experience.
I want to brew a cup of tea
And let it go cold,
Forgetting it amid our busy hands
And lips consoling one another.
The rain spatter on the window
Being the only sound
To accompany our growing hunger
In the darkness of our room.
Lighting flashes throw light
In our eyes and against our bodies
As thunder breaks
Like the sudden quiver of a pleasant touch.
The storm pummels on and on,
And we’re drawing each other out
Until we’ve consumed every drop
And we drown into sleep, solemnly spent.
The kind that sink into you like a sickness,
That grow into hooks strung between our chests.
We understand our world
By seeing it through each other’s words,
Our gazes and movements
Imparting wisdom only we can comprehend.
Reason and purpose,
They’re ours as disciples of one another.
In peace or war
We’re formidable as fortified emotions.
Tragedy is our past.
Romance is our blissful tragic future.
With cake and tension
We unload and collapse in each other’s voids.
Our dresses complimentary,
My blue, your red, wrapped in purple sheets.
We own our faults,
Our secrets our own to whisper in confidence.
Alive and secure within our bounds.
Could I ever be loved as completely
As the honesty of your sincerest introspection?
Mortality and eternity,
Subjects so situated in time
That occupy my emptiness
The way I wish I was admired.
Could I fill your mind
And terrify your sense of being
In such a way as to change
The reality of your inner quiet?
People are like night skies,
Shifting their position and meaning,
So when you gaze at me
I hope you think of what you’re not seeing.
We are mysterious and complicated things,
Too important for casual recognition,
And if I’m ever to be loved again
It must be worth our fullest attention.
I can see your skeleton
Dancing wihout skin
Sickly thin but opened up
For anyone’s heart to wander in.
Peace of mind unveiled
Aware and mostly dead
But twirling in your skirt,
Dreaming as you exhale.
Free as dissipation,
Flatenned lungs kissing
Last breaths to beating hearts
Pumping through the intermission.
Roses thrown in jest
Cutting naked flesh,
Hand to your breast.
Curtsy as you walk
Ignoring all the talk,
Blending in uncomfortably
Till it’s time to dance again.
Pale as brittle bones,
Stepping with your toes,
Peeking through the blinds
To see what life you’re in.