Romantic poetry

you

it isn’t just this and it isn’t you
you with your fair hair and your
sweet candy smile
and your way of moving oh so slowly
when i want you to hurry up

no, it’s me too
because i can’t stand that you’re
too perfect
too simply kind
to want someone like me

i’m base and horrid sometimes
you know?
or perhaps you’re innocent
where my faults lie
you’re not quick enough to see

so you’ll not really understand
why i’m leaving you and going
to places you can’t go nor would you want to
tread upon the type of dirt that
stirs up my brand of dusty irritant

i’ll miss you though but not as much
as you’ll surely miss me because
light is drawn to darkness more than
the other way around
goodbye

unvalentine’s day

…and now it’s time
to switch off my lamp
i’ve closed my book
and slipped on my pjs
with my glass of water
and my pills
on my bedside table
i ate too much
for comfort’s sake
the ice cream
and cake
and all the other stuff
i don’t want to think of
because i loved myself
because i ain’t got no one
to cuddle with
except my teddy bear
on this cold february night
nor all day
just me
and my comfort food
and my book
and now my pjs and water and pills
and i switch off my lamp
it’s time…
…to sleep…
…until february…
fifteen…th

Aloha Grace

Aloha Grace envisioned a place
with palm trees and white sandy beaches

In her room was a poster; she sat and imagined
the sea and the man she would meet there

For Aloha Grace lived in the arctic,
where the sun shone an hour a day

From this frozen tundra she needed escape
the moment she came of an age

Aloha Grace stepped off of the plane
and she breathed in the smell of the ocean

A half hour later her toes in the sand,
in the shade of a palm tree she stood

Then Aloha Grace, with the sun in her face
met the man she was destined to fall for

But a one-night stand left her colder than ice
and she realised the beach and the palm trees had lied

Aloha Grace went home in disgrace
pregnant and husbandless too

Down came the poster and down went the sun
for the grass is no greener than snow.

fingers – #SoCS

each morning at seven

she enters my store

and I watch as she

fingers the cherries

with her long blood-red nails

and her lips glistening the colour of wine

and her miles of stockinged legs

in scarlet stilettos

and I swear to myself

that one day I will

step up like a man

like the man that I am

and tell her

…

I love her

…

and I’ll love her even more

if

she’ll stop playing with my cherries

and play with my grapes

instead.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday – find it here.

socs-badge-2015

romance

romance comes
in so many forms

for some brightly lit in the sun, water falls and picnics

gah

what of that? sickly sweet and taffy cream ant infested bologna!

romance is this my love:

wine as red as blood
candle wax dripping upon skin
and pain
pain as sharp as the knife which i use
to carve your lust for me into your chest
as piercing as my body into yours – the physicality of romance

can you feel it?
can you feel the torture that i endure upon days
and nights of not knowing where you are
what you are doing and with whom?

romance is a fistful of angel hair and fingernail clippings
romance is a mindfull of possession and need

i hand it to you on a plate of flesh and bone

for you know as well as i
romance kills

doesn’t it my love?

gently

touches my heart
like music
breathes in my soul
your love is
my saving grace

Unsightly sights

We’re closed for the night
all tucked in just you ‘n’ me
alone at last;
you with your tie and your shiny hair
and me in uncomfortable stockings

In the dark, with the lights off
who cares if they knock on the glass doors
we have nothing left to sell
except what we sell ourselves;
heated breath, exchanged, no receipts

Can they see us shedding the clothes
of mannequins? haha is that what they think?
Thru the window my skin is pale and if
I stand still enough perhaps
my porcelain skin will look to their eyes
innocent window dressing

You feel my radiant lust upon your chest
that I care not what they think
as I untie your tie and drop your drawers
and then the window dresser appears to be
doing the unspeakable with his porcelain companion
at closing time.

I love you

I should have said, I love you in the purest of ways. That I cared deeply for you; that I expected nothing from you than what you were willing to give freely.

Your friendship.

But as I lay in your arms, the glow of our lovemaking surrounding us like an aura of blush and holy water beneath the sheets, my transgressive whisper caused a hitch in your breath and I knew I had uttered our sentence. Simple as it was and true as I felt it echo from you as well, I should have explained.

I want you to know that that morning has never left me. From your 2am call, I want you now, until we spoke and laughed on the phone after you returned home – every second, every hour in between, has burned in my mind.

Young Angel.

I will never leave you. You know I am with you even now. What we share is eternal. As pure as the I love you I meant to say.

‘f

‘f you gaze at the stars’ cosmic patterns

‘f you hear the crash of the waves from the other side of the sea

‘f you sing a melody into the air tonight, will you hear the sound of my voice

‘f i sing in cosmic harmony?

stasis

nights
when i cant be bothered
to capitalize or apostrophize
i just wantwish
to be curled up on the couch
in your arms once again
going down
for hours
to sleep beside your faithful snores
your heat
and to wake to the pulsing
of the alarm
rocking
out the 69s
and 70s
and then
youre gone once again
leaving behind your scent
and me
without as much as an apostrophe
or a care to pinky a shift