Posts Tagged ‘lust’

Kiss Me and See

Posted: September 16, 2015 in Love Poems
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I am the ember

to your flower;

but I can’t stay red,

and you won’t remain evergreen.

Let’s use each other up

while time allows

our beauty to be seen.

i dredge you up

take a look at your Facebook feed

God, i’m so stupid

i fall for faces

and only faces

i fall not in love

just feel and reel because

my pulse picks up

but you’re voting for Trump

you’re so stupid

brain fried by California sunshine

drunk on forty’s you find on the street

or get from a guy with a shaved head

who you give head in a port-a-potty

That last bit is semi-speculation

but i can’t help but feel bad

because you don’t know what you’re doing

as you grab glowsticks

and hit up a pride parade

hang out with your frat boy bros

and blow each other cuz there’s nothing else to do

since there’s a drought

And i hate that i actually felt

something for you

It’s only because of the way you look

Everybody makes mistakes.

Where is the crossing

of the stars? Not Here,

as is desired-

Youths wish it’d appear-

 

though- Consequences

be neglected- Outcomes-

rarely what expected,

or what one dreams-

The walls know of your financial trouble.

The walls have heard you and your wife

scream at each other,

volume and pitch ascending, a two-person opera.

The walls know your children’s contained secrets.

They know what your son looks at

on his computer, and lusts after.

They listen to your daughter’s conversations

with herself, her diary, her friends.

The walls know your struggles,

they see blood boil under your skin,

see tears run like beads of quartz

down hills and valleys of your face,

hear each footstep- feel the hammers

or leopard steps they could be.

The walls know you.

They have Guarded you.

“As it has been said: 

Love and a cough

cannot be concealed.

Even a small cough.

Even a small love.” ~ Anne Sexton, Small Wire

                                *

Winter is the time I fashion clothes out of fire-

snow bites my cheeks so, and I feel

unloved. 

When desire comes about

I grab onto it, and hook it into my chest,

and knit warm and heavy shirts out of its thread,

and I burn red.

In Winter I am this

vulnerable beacon of burning love.

I am exposed to the elements.

The flames are in danger of going out,

I will be left naked in the cold.

But if I clutch the threads to my heart,

and if I invoke the name of my desired one,

my heart burns, and the fires roar;

though winds rage

I am protected by these flames.

I do not think of you at break of day,

the sunrise in its vivid orange holds

me so. I meet blazing sky with squinting gaze.

With passage of day I focus not on sun’s golds,

but on your hair: reminiscent of clay and bronze.

Your skin has been kissed by the zealous sun,

I envy it. Your eyes carry one hundred tons

of precious jewels, they glitter so. What’s to be done

when the sun’s passage turns my thoughts to you?

Am I to let this burning love fester?

Or should I loose the words, and then, know not what to do?

Sun, swallow me and let these thoughts pester

me no more! I would rather perish in flames

than go mad due to these wicked mind games.

My regular blood flow is interrupted,

the drumbeat changed, when I see you.

No longer does my pulse stream

at a constant rate, unnoticeable,

it quickens to a locomotive pace.

My heart and guts quiver,

something in me swells, engorges

and pushes away feelings of sadness

as simply as a tear is stroked away

by the steady finger of a lover.

Is it your flushed face,

your small and kind eyes-

their blue warmth like a stove-fire,

which tug my gaze to be held there,

like the compliant needle of a compass?

You, the center,

are far from me,

buried in long conversations

with people I do not know-

one man with dark hair, one man in flannel.

Do you even know my name?

My heart observes:

learning every detail of your face and the way you walk,

listening to the sound of your voice,

fluttering like a doe’s eye from the subtlety of your laugh.

This moment is conceivably permanent;

I smile at your back, my heart pulsating

at a frantic-rabbit pace,

and you staring forward,

head tilted at an angle which I can admire.

My thoughts jumping with happy possibilities

and the sad realization that they will never be.

Unless,

you turn and smile at me.

If I were to peel back your skin,

what would I find underneath?

Is there some sort of baby there–

howling, malnourished,

thin as cardboard with veins

bulging underneath its tomato-skin like fat worms?

Is there nothing but an idol

whose limbs operated so humanly,

but only after the pale curtain was pulled away

was the inhumanity of its brass knob joints,

rigid gold stature,

and manufactured glass eyes revealed?

Or is it human?

Is there a heart?

Small, churning

and humming like an engine;

taking shape not as a crimson fist,

but as a flickering light,

fluttering like the sun,

nestled under your skin

in the cavity of your chest.

Why am I so willing to pass my heart around

on a platter like hors d’oeuvres?

Falling in love is not

something that simply happens;

there is always admiration before desire,

smoke before flame.

Perhaps it is not that I’m willing,

but rather, that I don’t know,

for I would rather live in this haze

for fear of being burned.

Love is not the phantom hand

that reaches inward

and twists a person

into a ball of anxiety.

Love is not absence

presiding as a cold hole

under skin and bones,

where one should feel

warm and whole.

Love is not harsh-tongued,

speaking with fists

and bulging-vein bellows.

Love is not waiting

outside windows

when a telephone would suffice.

Love is not lounging about

waiting for decadent meals

to be carried in on spotless china or silver.

Love is not within the bed,

love is not within the words

on a red card,

love is not within a box of chocolates

or other boxes tied with bows.

Love is within conversation–

both simple diner talk,

and concentrated inquisition

that lasts for hours.

Love is where

two minds grow

in respect and admiration,

and learn to See past exteriors.