Reservoir. (Mini-Series. Part 7.)

Watch me, love,
and wonder.
Confine your peripheral vision
on my silhouette
Only.
Notice that I'm secretly doing work.

Though I won't tell you exactly
what I'm up to,

know this:
It's all for you.

So To Speak

I have an odd request
for you.
Maybe two...

Speak up.
Tilt your chin upwards
slightly,
Straighten your back and
meekly resound your mind to me.
Arrange your words straight as an arrow
and aim directly for my heart's flesh.
I need to know you aren't afraid of sounding off.
Flapping your gums at me, so to speak,
even if a time or two
Is to let me know that
You.
Got.
This.

Also,
Lean in really close to me.
Invade my person and
Match my line of vision.
Speak in low tones with confident demeanor.
Softly enunciate each syllable
so that I will stiffen at attention.
Verbalize to me what lies in the intimate corners
of your heart, so to speak.
I promise that once you
have my full attention
You'll.
Have.
Me.

Spring Break Musings. (Mini-Series. Part 9)

You push me to edges.
But revealing that I can go further
Than I thought I ever could.
I see that my edges aren’t really
The end
Of all there is of me.
Rather,
They are a beautiful
Transition
Into greater unknowns.

Hidden (The Meaner Half)

Repressed motives

Shine behind waiting, innocent

Eyes.

Fondness lies in the wake.

Ready to grasp bits of

Warmth,

And

Steal away seconds of

Undivided attention

Before becoming the

Object of jealousy.

Quiet, selfish, and set.

Hidden points of interest exist

Despite the

Depths of another bond.

Betrayal waits,

Prepared to make a mockery

Out of tried-and-true friendship.

…a misguided passion

Taking advantage of actual love.

*written May 12, 2009

Suicide. (Mini-Series. Part 8)

“What doesn’t kill you
Makes you stronger.”
Well, I wish that
I were dead.
I wish I could be a fatality
And not a survivor
...of heartbreak.

Heart of Fire.

Caressing a fire,

Your heart glows bright in my arms.

The tips of my fingers

Trace carefully along the heated seams

Close to rupturing its zealous rays.

In moments where I grasped too quickly,

Clenched too harshly,

Your love seared my flesh;

Left an impression past skin & bone.

I retract my grip

And react in pain;

Gritting teeth and regretting that

I wasn’t more careful.

However,

Soon after the tissue cools

I notice that

You’ve forever left a mark;

A permanent tale-tell sign.

Therefore,

I’ll always walk this earth with a piece of the sun

Because I’ve loved you.

(Mini-Series. Part 6) Deep vs. Shallow

I know that my waters
run deep,
but the moment I notice that
I am being
           watched;
caught underneath the gaze of
your mind's eye,
I cast my smile as far away as possible
and quietly wade around
the shallow end.
I cannot show you
just how deep it all goes.

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.

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.

The Answer (I Will Write For You)

I will write for you.

At times my mind can be rigid and afraid

Silent but focused for days.

Meanwhile my heart

Clamors about desperately

Intent on living life free

From worry or doubt.

Though these dual forces

War in fiery rivalry,

Both surrender themselves to

The mercy of my pen;

Subservient and hospitable.

I will channel my mind’s eye

Along with the fight of my heart;

Enclose it, with all diligence,

To present it upon special request.

…You asked of me,

So I’ll gratefully respond,

“Yes, friend, I will write for you.”

You recognize that others

Stand and applaud at my thoughts’ echo,

While,

The approval and jeers cultivate the wordsmith in me,

From finger snaps (unfortunately) to follow-up gigs

And opportunities for improvised truth.

But know that, for you,

I would contract my gift,

And destine an indefinite amount of my heart’s prose

In your honor.

I would risk the embarrassment of misunderstood theme,

Grammatical errors, and

Impartial rhyme and meter,

So that you could partake of the rawest, freshest scribes of me.

I will write for you.

Carpal tunnel and eye strain will be my companions;

Purging whatever I have in me [for you]

To give to you.

And though I am afraid of what you’ll do to/with my deepest expressions,

So costly and dear,

I fear more the regret of keeping them close.

Hovering over the very gift that I am not meant

To maintain or control.

To cheat my words of the right to an audience

With your heart.

So yes,

YES.

I will write for you.