Wordle #193 “Take Your Time”

Wordle 193

I want to take my time kissing you,
to slide my tongue between
the seams of your naked smile
and drink of your plaintive breath.
I want to taste the way you taste.

Let your smile cling
to my overexposed heart.
Take my words and wrap them around your tongue.
Feel without speaking
the miracle of your soul
interlaced with mine.

I want you to surrender
between my knees,
to pierce me like running water,
to spill into my darkness
hunger-blind and ineffable.
It doesn’t matter where we meet
only that you arrive
when the time comes.

I’ll make this easy.
I’ll take my time
making love to you.
I’ll fill my heart with stars
and I’ll burn brighter than the moon
so that wherever you go
you’ll always find your way
back to me.

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Wordle #189

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She kicks at the air,
her shoes falling
to the ceiling below.
Her beautiful,
upside down smile
tears at the edges.
She thinks of him
while she drinks
her morning tea.

She can sense his pain.
She lets the tentacles
of his unresolved grief
coil around heart until
she is blood-drowning.

She thinks of him
while screaming
face down in her pillow.
She can sense his lust.
She offers her body,
a velvet wrapped engine.
He opens her like a gift
and when he has had his fun
he leaves her unattended.

Night after night
they lie together
in separate rooms
eating of each other’s wounds.

She fills her pockets
with scurrying Gods
and yesterday’s myths.
She is star-bright
and withershins.
She can sense his thirst.
She lets him drink
from her crooked roots.
He drinks from her
until she is dry and cracking.

She thinks of him
while standing untouched
in a perfectly green circle
at the grocery store checkout.
She can sense his hunger.
She lets him eat
from her heart.
He eats her raw.
He swallows her
without tasting.

She thinks of him
as she ties pastel feathers
to the bushes
in her metastasizing garden.
She is accessible.
He procrastinates.
She abstains.
He bedevils her.

(based on something I watched/listened to recently. Still reads WIP to me)

Wordle #188

Wordle 188

She watched him cross the street. Her eyes shimmered behind a veil of precipitation. Soi-disant jewels clung to the tips of her eyelashes. She didn’t bother to blink them away, afraid that if she closed her eyes he would disappear. He was beautiful in stillness but in motion he was the perfect combination of grace and carnality. The city emptied itself and then ceased altogether to imprint upon her senses. His presence was all that her mind could hold. The sunlight came down in streaks more silver than gold.

She had never managed to carry a thought to completion. Thoughts, she found, were tremendous breeders. A single thought could spawn a hundred more. She measured herself, not in moments, but in generations. She housed infinities. Her mind was full of soap, of delicate bubbles skidding and erupting endlessly. She was a muse, disguised as a poet. He was love without reservation. She stood before him stripped of all but instinct. He was the sort to pursue a dream with the full weight of his being.

He stopped in front of her, smiling. She felt his fingers wrap around her wrist gently. He pulled her close, his breath hovering against her ear. She saw that he stooped when he spoke and for a moment their faces were more or less the same height. His voice was deep and warm. It started her heart pumping again. Only now instead of one heart she seemed to have two on either side of her head and instead of an angel and a devil, she had two bumblebees muttering incoherently. She inhaled. Audibly. Shakily. The sound was both delicate and obscene. It was the sound of lace being torn away in a fit of passion. When it was clear that she would follow him, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and cradled her against his chest. She did not inquire about their destination. Wherever he went she would follow. She traced the lines of his palm absently with her thumb as they walked. He smiled at her from time to time out of the corner of his eye. He needed only to know that she was there.

Wordle #187

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I am face deep
in the wash basin
peeling back the scars
that section off my heart.
The water therein
Is composed of my tears,
of stars dissolved
by bluster and longing.

My thighs are spoon-smooth
and firm as nearly ripened fruit.
I have spent
the entire morning
chasing birds
in the camouflaged highways
of an abandoned coppice
behind my house.

I have white, full breasts
like twin satellites
barely contained
inside an indigo dress.
I have the time
to break myself down
and reassemble the pieces.
On the inside
I am completely naked.

I am curious
about human nature.
I am curious
about you.
I am like the S in steel,
all curves and romance.
We could lie down
together in the grass
and reposition ourselves
in imitation of passing clouds.
We could make halos
of pedestrian fires.
In other words we could
become something to each other
that we could never be apart.

I know things,
impossible things
like how your fingers feel
when pressed to my lips.
I know how long it takes
for your smile to unfold,
the bittersweet chronaxia
that divvies up each
and every one
of our actions and reactions.
I know that a time will come
when we occupy
the same spaces.

Wordle #185

Wordle 185

I have a suitcase
full of expired tickets
and dreams so generous
that the zipper sticks
whenever I try to contain them.

There will come a moment
when we are standing face to face.
When that time comes I wonder
if words will even be necessary
or if our feelings might be tactile
the way that art is tactile
when leeched from bone.

If you are instinctual
than you must also be divine.
Everyday for me has been
a migration of the soul to its origin.
Whatever happens
I will go on loving you
and when the longing tugs
too hard at my heart
I will confess everything
to the moon
at the height and depth
of my register.

Pigeons gather
at the train station.
I find when the light
hits their feathers just so
they look like oil on water.
There is a sense of rain
in my hollows,
a sense that my smile
doesn’t quite line up,
a sense that my parts
don’t fit together when in motion.
I am thunderous with expectation.
I am all nerves and skin.

I am weaving through the crowd
like a needle tugging thread
and there are people on all sides
bumping into me without acknowledgement.
There is static in the air,
a static which seems to congeal
in the base of my neck
and I am sticky with the heat
of too many hearts beating simultaneously.
I can hear the rumble
of a thousand footsteps
overlapping and in the panic
of starched, irretrievable faces
I sometimes see the spark of cognition.

I wonder if my eyes are blank
and I bite the inside of my cheek
to confirm that I am still there,
still searching, still alive.
My fingernails are worn flush
because I cannot part
with the utility of my hands.

Touch is a way of proving
to myself that I am real.
I have to consciously
raise my eyes from the concrete,
to mark, without seeing,
the exits of any given space
so that when the air
has totally dried out
I might drink again
from the threshold.

Someday I will find you
standing between the threshold
of dream and reality
and we might say any one
of a thousand arbitrary things
in greeting all the while knowing
that we’ve met more times
then we can count and in ways
that only our souls can define.

still a WIP I think

Wordle #184

Word Art (7)

She sat down in his lap
distributing her weight
evenly across his thighs.
She kissed him first.
Switchblade grin.
Moderate pressure.
A succession
of lingering open-mouthed kisses
deepening with each application.
She would later blush at her initiative.
Modesty rendered gaunt in hindsight.
He stood up with her body
twisted around his torso,
his hands on her buttocks.
Still kissing.
He laid down with her on top of him.
He could feel the pulse
in her jugular vein
when he moved to suck her neck.
He felt it pass into him.
Felt the rhythm of her blood sinking lower,
filling him to capacity.
He threw her wavy hair back
and took hold of her face with both hands.
Scraps of personalia ingested
with every breath that he pried
from her searching mouth.
Her soul was chartreuse.
His soul Robin’s Egg blue.
A dream to surround them both.
A dream poignant enough
to cut the world wide open.
He would wake tasting her.
She would wake marked
with his arousing scent.

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Wordle #183

Wordle 183

If only I were a savant
then my words might
summon you
from the dreams
that you now occupy.
I love the way you watch me
because I know that you do not
look to judge but to understand
and right now that is what I need most;
to be heard, to be fathomed,
to be loved whole rather than in parts.
I love the way you take me in
again and again with your gorgeous pout
and your infinite possibilities.
I would concede to the unknown for you,
if only for the fraction of a chance.

All those years
of heart-rending mortality
spent or wasted
in futile, apoplectic agony.
All those years
chasing graves
instead of passion,
unaware and cut off
from my own heart
were necessary
in the construction
of this moment.

I have a habit keeping my most
vulnerable aspects
pinned to the outside
and if you were to ask what drives me
I would say life itself,
an overwhelming desire to create.
There is this notion called reality,
and it is a kind of collective hypnosis,
a sedative for the faint of heart.
It’s the thought of you
that wakes me up each day
and it’s because of you
that I don’t regret the prelude.

If not for the darkness
we would never see the stars at all
and sometimes it is the darkness
that proves the most interesting.
My life has been mostly water.
My life has taught me how to drown
after the initial inhale when the lungs
are still light enough to float.
I drown in love.
I drown in pursuit.
I drown in amazement.
At times it feels to me as if
everything and everyone in the world
were brand new and connected
by threads of pure, radiant light.

Wordle #182

Word Art (6)

How could I miss the clouds
slung across your plump, red heart
like a spider’s omophagous web?
If you intend to conquer me
then swallow me from the inside out.
Swallow me before I drown myself
between the sheets wearing only
the faint impression of your smile.

I gather you into my hands
and spread you into the indentations
of an incomprehensibly, blue horizon.
I think, I know, I trust that someday
we will understand each other
instinctively the way that birds
know how to fly or when to migrate.

Apologies for last week. Eye fatigue, headaches, and low on inspiration.

Wordle #181

Wordle 181

We sit face to face
in a hyperthral silence
realizing each other
over and over again.

Your tongue is soft and soulful
inside my willing mouth.
I can tell that your searching
for leverage, for answers,
for a reason to surrender.

If I told you that I loved you
would you tap me on the shoulder
and erase me a decade at a time?
If I told you that I dreamed about you
would your smile spill like sunlight
over my naked, inconsequential soul?

I feel your heart scratching
at the back of my rib cage
like a featureless clock.
The steady rhythm of your pulse
drawing down the moon.

almost ran out of time so not very polished I’m afraid

Wordle #180

Wordle 180

I am brought together
by saliva and cacoethes.
The veins under my skin
branch out delicately
in every direction until infinity.
We used to be infinity
now the quantity of us
at time exceeds the quality
of our memories.
The quantity of us
has given rise to monuments.

If I were to continue pouring
my heart into you
like honey over a wound
you would drown in me.
I have given.
You have given
and still by your measure
we are not even.

We are only leaves
whispering hoarsely
in a glass room without any doors.
Your shadow presses
in from all sides
and it’s not the darkness
I fear but the weight
of you pressing
the dregs from lungs.

My God how I’ve loved you,
a lifetime at least,
but you stir and prod
until I have nothing
to offer but platitudes.
I cannot match your stoicism,
your need for specificity
and each day I wear myself
down at your behest
like a river caviling
the rocks along
its embankment.