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.
“What’s the difference between loving someone and being in love with them?”
Continue reading “The difference”
I want you tossed and turned,
and tussled in my bed. I want you
lost in the messy chaos of the sheets,
buried in your own breath, clawing
your way out with my name on your Continue reading “Tossed and turned”
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”
Call it what you will, but entangled particles exist.
Continue reading “Soulmates”
Poets are fools
who have mastered the
art of arranging and
rearranging the same
twenty six letters
to spell love.
Continue reading “Spell love”
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”
I want no ordinary love.
One that defies reason.
One that redefines romance. Continue reading “No ordinary love”
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”