I want my man like I want
my books: warm to touch,
smooth on the inside but
rough along the edges,
leather-bound with a hard
back, filled with sordid
stories to tell.
Maybe the wind
has withered your shape,
maybe the sun has dried
up all your leaves, maybe Continue reading “Nest”
I’ve met too many men
who loved my surface but
feared my depth. I’m a crazy,
chaotic maelstrom of laughter
& warmth, happiness & nostalgia. Continue reading “Entwine”
Poets are fools
who have mastered the
art of arranging and
rearranging the same
twenty six letters
to spell love.
Continue reading “Spell love”
Make coffee, so that the whole place smells like hazelnut. Put on some Marvin Gaye, turned down low. Slide back under the sheets with me.
Continue reading “The perfect way to wake me:”
I don’t want you to go, I used to say,
when it was still another way to say I love you.
Continue reading “Curling”
You tell me you love me, but you
can never choose me. We were a
juxtaposition from the start. Continue reading “Juxtaposition”
He comes at the ungodliest of hours.
We speak without voices, hands and
hips asking how was your day, tongues
probing and thighs falling open in Continue reading “Lecherous longing”
He comes to me in the middle of the night,
a sweet apparition slipping uninvited
underneath the covers, he’d spell out nice Continue reading “Orgasmic storm”
I remember that one night,
how clocks stood still for us
and morning didn’t come
until we asked it to. Continue reading “One night in Eden”
Why do we always long for
the things that would lead us
to complete destruction?
The way I am craving for you.
My skin misses the messy scrawl
of your touch. My muscles ache
with need. I want to feel you in
the mornings and taste you in
the night, my soul years for
yours. I am craving for you.
Day 24, #naughtynovembernoir, hosted by @elle12368, @bluelotus.kamikazeheart, @__got2haveit, @wild.cherry69xo and moi