I like the way your poetry rips at my chest,
the way we tare at my clothes with overrun expectations
You've seen so many beautiful bodies,
I wonder what on earth one could possibly do for you..

I read again, with long slow breaths
a contemplative excruciating conscious
It hurts to be alone now
it's the contrast from intimacy
that suddenly glides down to thigh
comforting and cleansing
you were wonderful

Was I your neophyte?
You could be a love of mine,
Fitting my fancy.
We rung harmonious melancholy
dipping into black waters of
bedtime boxes.

I like the way you comforted me-
crisp clean linen look, your kind eyes when compelled.
I thought you were too selfish for such things...
(then again, the night went rather well)
Dark to light, flickering to bright
submerging me, the layers of sheets
written and empty (!?)
I don't need you

I was suprised you looked so sharp today
it was odd to see (you in/so nicely) clothed
always interesting, like company visiting,
my world remembering,
awkwardly stark your body beautiful
these realms of empyreal Marked
It was wonderful for me.

For our lexicon I muster
thoughts without intentions
learning and loving
continually undoing...
I bruit the feelings with the tears
gliding silently from,
face furrowed with felicity
and feeling that I don't need more,
besides, the paintings obviate.
(while I'm supposing this'is best,
I'm, reconsidering knowing)

11/20/2005

Author's Note: I have tried to work on the use of tense in this piece... would appreciate input if anyone has something?

Posted on 07/08/2006
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