Curbed & Biased.

my eyes are for no other.
handsome forms and
charming words of strangers
fail to turn my head.
my tastes have been
curbed and biased.
reserved for the likes of
only you.
...or your prototype at least...

my heart is incapable of
resounding loudly for another [man].
the kindest gesture or
most intellectual exchange
cannot raise a single hair on my head
nor prickle one pore on my forearm.
I am dead to all of them:
Future suitors are merely a sea of
faceless Johns...
...and in their midst you've surpassed them all.

Take Time

I.
take a moment to
simply. breathe.
and study the loving eyes
staring back at you.
say nothing and
be still.
and I will quiet the
stirrings underneath my rib;
silently nurse the pain.
I'll be ready when you are, friend.
I'll be ready when it's time.

II.
take a moment.
and I'll linger here...
how lovely it can be to
dwell in sweet anticipation.
I'll wait for you.
My feet will not budge
unless it's in your direction...
and unless He tells me to.
I'll be ready when you are, friend.
I'll be ready when it's time.

Smile (Mini-Series. Part 6)

look in my direction
linger there for a moment
give me your eyes' shine.
and slowly perk cheekbones
let your lips part
while their corners
reach for the heavens,

show me you're delighted...
...love,
smile for me.

Shine.

Every morning

I brainstorm

On new ways that I can

Be better.

I muse over dreams from the night before

To calculate their divinity.

I breathe deeper

To clean the air for my fellow man.

Stand up straighter,

On tip toes,

So that I can get a better view of the sunrise.

Smile with

Eyes closed

And

Laugh with

Head back,

So that You can see

That I feel Your gaze…

[…though I am sometimes too shy to look back.]

I think of how I can write

With more insight,

As to not waste the light that peeks through

Your partly open door.

Exercise the talents and gifts I have

As an avenue to decrypt a portion of Your delight.

I’ll devise future plans;

Make room for love to have its way in me,

Because all I

Really purpose to do

In life is

Make You smile.

The Break. (The Skinny Poem)

I have realized

The dangers of a passion

Left alone to starve.

Small morsels of

Grazing skin-to-skin

And bartering full glances

…Tease the longing soul.

However,

While a cloud of the unknown

Hovers close,

We are temporarily shaded

From the sun.

Here,

We find relief.

From the intensity

Of hope,

The pull

Of commitment,

And the exhaustion

Of desire.

Across the Line

I.

We sneak off to indulge

In the moment.

My love and I steal away.

Giggling and clumsy,

To snatch glimpses

Into marital bliss.

We slow danced across the line

Clearly defined;

Grooving to Nat King Cole’s

Sophisticated crooning.

I staggered through

My conscience

So that I may tell you

In a grown up way,

That I love you more than

I am ready for.

Mimicking a look I saw mother give father,

I run a delicate toe coyly

Across the line….

…momentarily

caring less about the manner set for my feet

to walk in.

Tonight,

I could no longer stifle the mature woman’s bellow

Coming from underneath my belly,

Nor the cry from her womb.

So, I dared follow her nature

For a while (as best I could),

And responded to the grown man

Accent in you.

Dormant desire

Met with inexplicable zeal.

A pair of hips and hands meet,

And music was made.

And so we slow danced across the line,

Moving in our own inelegant,

But destined,

rhythm.

II.

I figured as much.

We were actually

Mesmerized by sensations

Due to the taste of my breast

And the firmness of your flesh.

Throughout moments of honorable torment,

As we began to

Slow dance across the line,

You could not stop thinking of

How good it’s going to feel inside.

And I just wanted to feel beautiful again... inside.

It all

Still

Leads back to you and I,

Making us selfish lovers.

I love you

And you, me

But

It’s a plus

That I desire to give parts of me

And

That these parts belong to me,

So we pretend to belong to one another.

Lovely, isn’t it?

It’s no fault of yours, my love.

This is what happens when

We slow dance to our parents’ mood music.

Possibly,

We gravitate onto territory

That we explicitly desire,

But

Are not yet prepared for.

Maybe I should wait

Until we’ve realized that

You make love to my soul

And connect to my spirit

First,

Before I give in to you again.

The Friend Zone (Snippet)

I asked God for a soulmate,

But instead, He sent me

you.

Equipped with all the

Probability of a Love Story

That I did not plan for.

With an unripe heart

And underdeveloped writing skills

I toddled right into the friend zone…

…etched a permanent marking there.

I was allowed to rest my coat

And cool my heels.

Fields of Battle (Working Title)

The plain of my love for you

Is more like a battlefield

Than an open pasture where

The possibilities are endless,

And the hopes are high.

I feel compelled to crouch,

Position my heart low, and fight

Than spread my wings

For a flight’s anticipation.

I would much rather

Stretch out contentedly

Extend my legs and fingertips

To take in each blade of green

And ray of sunlight.

But,

Instead the ground is mud and soot;

Where I place one careful footstep

After the other.

Cautious and afraid,

Passing by dilapidated buildings…

In an area that was once my home.