I cannot say, it is not certain, but the sky knows;
charcoal black and bewildering
as it normally is
when circumstances shape themselves,
I drown and drown,
bound by a force that satisfies the surge coursing
Lord, what fools us women be when it comes to men.
Where do I begin? The irrefutable charm of
his caramel brown eyes
leaves me tongue-tied,
pulls me away from the world and dives
deep into fiery amber being–
only for a moment though, and
then he’s on his way,
my heart does a somersault every time he opens
his mouth to speak,
soft syllables that pronounce me distinctly as his.
Beneath the jokes and armor, he is a romantic;
as the clouds whisper his name
and lips continue to deny the fact that they
I want to taste saccharine sighs,
be one with roseate blush that permeate
from shoulder blades to toes,
I want to catch moonbeams in body and leave
a legacy he won’t soon forget,
for chiseled features don’t lie–
I want to kiss the shade of long lashes
that are both soft and loud,
so much of the conversation that follows
becomes lost in translation,
I want to cup ache in both hands
so that the world can not touch him without consent.
This is my confession; as sky continues to express
what poems hope to,
all of his curves are as lush and unshaded pasture to me,
I follow with my mouth and proclaim them
as particularly dangerous–
I need them so hold me,
come cover the slope of my mountains to the crest,
as September smiles
from a corner silently watching.
Can you imagine the extent of fervor?
Can you feel the sense of longing that jumps out in words?
I leave out details so that others don’t take the liberty
to pry and read.
He’s got a soul that stays lit and intrigues me.
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