the moments between
when you are dressed
and undressed before
me collide, pink, lace
skinperfect, you glide
bite your bottom
lip, beckon and bring
me tingly to your
hip-cups 'valleys'
ignite tongue to
your thighs vistas
your eyes miles
away, love your
eyes molten inside
spine curved in
the cups of my hands
territory i enter
and leave, mapbook
in hand charts
your topography
rise and fall of your
chest as you sleep
my fingertips miss
you, my dreams are
suchdeep pools you
fall into
Trevor's Get Well Fund
little ol' me
hawaiian night
Hi!
Ama when we were freshets yet
4 comments:
In Baudilaire's only novella Fanfarlo, the lead character personifies what he fears of becoming the most: the foolish Romantic, the dandy enslaved by his own twisted passions, the man of potential brilliance that squanders his talents through his lack of self discipline.
insightful warning friend. i wonder though what despair i might fall into without my muse(s), and therefore what might i fail to accomplish without their inspiration...if romance is indeed hopeless, i think everything must be.
(plus, look how sexy it is...kind of)
:)
Flaneur well said, i think trevor and i both are climbing out of that pit. or trying to. I really liked the poem, trev.
you know that's nate right? lol. funny that the three of us should be conversing on this.
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