• kneaded

    i don’t need to be kneaded like dough on a marble top, just meet me here where moonlight spills like milk, where honey dew rolls off the tip of a leaf, spring tastes like crisp apple and forevermore rests at the brink,

  • drink

    you pour me a glass of drink, but all i see is your wrist titled just right and liquid pouring like a hot stream, splashing against the sides of the glass; you offer it to me, but i have drunk from it before it has even touched my lips

  • cleaved

    your smile cleaves me straight down, head to two toes; i say i can’t take another heartbreak but here i am dancing to your every move, your willing sacrifice, neck tilted wide open; sweet lamb for your sharp knife—

  • abandonment

    don’t look downcast, you are the child of the moon and sun, they spin around you, pulling you up and out; oh, sweet daisies, bluebells and moonflowers toss yourselves with total abandonment, heap your scent in the air: aphrodite would envy you

  • monolith

    you are the monolith through which the whole of me stretches, ballooning with every thrum of your being; the universe stretches with the sound of you

  • drug

    your face calls me like a siren that pains as it pleases; i can’t stop falling in, forgive me my soul, i long to be so utterly shattered, and cruelty calls me like a drug

  • breathless

    like clear water it trickles down over your lips, your eyes, the curl of your smile; i can see it play over your skin, constantly dancing every beat, every rhythm while you remain so utterly still: breathless,

  • tug-of-war

    I can see the force of your boot against me and your eyes sharpened to life, hair angst against the winds of my defiance; sing me, demand me, pull my limbs in this tug-of-war that neither of us ever wins

  • Scheherazade

    you pull out words out of my hoard so easy; i must restrain your hand to stretch sweetness to sheer taffy, like Scheherazade I must make 1001 nights out of you before sleep seeps into my pillows

  • sea foam

    how could i spell you any differently than you are? each fiber of your being speaks for itself; what could i ever want to do but to listen to you string your every chord till all that is left of me is the backwash of sea foam