Ode To My Lover: Him and Her

 

tim-marshall-114623

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

There’s something about the way
She pouts her lips defiantly
And leaves traces of her kiss
Lingering…
Or maybe it’s the flip of her hair,
As she insists she has no care
For my night time
Escapades,
She only cares for the days
When I belong to her,

But there’s something about the
Quietness
After a maelstrom
Of scarlet red anger
That fades to deep indigo sadness

It’s what we do behind the scenes
When the sheets are remade
And she momentarily puts away
Her pariah’s name
When she isn’t answering
Bottom ended calls at midnight hours

She puts on a personality
That runs deeper than the highest intimacy
She becomes a side to me
That’s better than I’ve ever known.

Maybe its in her innocence
As wet tears cling fiercely
To her eyelashes and she assures me…

Or is it the innocence I robbed?
For some fleeting passion…
A shared breath
A moment that bubbles between two lungs.

Or maybe that’s just fantasy

***
I know it’s unsustainable
I know I am not right,
But it’s more than just
The way he lays
His fingers on me
Or looks into my eyes…and smiles
See, I am enthralled by him
Wholly and Irrevocably.

Maybe it’s the way he talks
Maybe it’s the way he talks to me.

But after a hurricane
That’s coloured rainbows of emotions
I know.

I think it’s funny;
His boys told me I’m all but a
“Booty call”

The ladies call me a hoe
But I know.

I know it’s not right
And that should stop me
But as the rosary entangles in my lingerie
I shed a few tears
That paint my shame
Grey and Unspectacular
Misguided, Ill-advised.

I should know better but I don’t.

Maybe it’s just fantasy

Sonnet by Lachlan Mackinnon

the jupiter collisions

image by FWallpapers.com, http://www.VETTON.ru

(poem taken from The Jupiter Collisions by Lachlan Mackinnon)

Suppose there was no great creating Word,

That time is infinite. Corollary?

The present moment gives infinity

An end, by coming after it. Absurd

 

Say the beginning of the world occurred

In time and call that moment T,

Everything needed for the world to be

Was, at the point T minus X. Absurd

 

Falling in love’s a paradox like this.

Either it happens like a thunderbolt,

So when it makes our lives make sense, it lies

 

Or we had long been hoping for the kiss

That changed us, and, aware how it would jolt

Our beings, we could suffer no surprise

Nebulous

greg-rakozy-38802

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash 

I almost knew you.
I already knew your name.
I already loved you.

I love curve of your face
The shape of your fingers
I love the softness of your skin

I love you.

But you were taken from me.

I needed you but I couldn’t have you.

I hope that,
When life is better
And we are meant to be

We can meet again.

And then i will

Hold you closer to me
Dearer to me

I still love you.
And I always will.

It Flows and It Ebbs

nathan-anderson-299583

Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash 

This the story of what happened.
I lit a match,
It faltered and died
Fell to the ground.
It lit a spark,
That was fanned on flames
And started a wildfire.

You unwittingly
Came to put out the flames,
But you let them rise.
You stood in awe,
It was a tsunami wall
Of everything amalgamated
Into a beautiful disaster.

So we stood together and watched it burn.

A Doing Word

broken doll

They told me loving my body
Is a doing word.

They’d actively worship it
On the anti-throne of lust
Pull me apart and piece me back together for their own appreciation

They told me that I shouldn’t worry,
That those girl-like ridges
Above my ribs
Would blossom into the fullness
Of womanhood incarnate
In the curvature of
Somewhat recreational glands.

They told me not to freak out
My asset is one
That will be spinning heads because the sway in my hips is enough to slay.

They told me I will be enough;

If I listened to the sweet melodies,
That surfeiting
Eventually the appetite may so sicken and die

They told me loving my body is a verb.

That is done to me.
Over and over and over.

But they forgot to tell me,
That the verb must first be done by me.