A sweep of sick nostalgia,
At these old familiar mind games.

Second guessing,
Constant stressing.

Are you playing with me?
No, I'm playing with myself.
Mmmmm...and it feels good.

Sweetheart, come to bed.
the demons that you hoard are bending the curves of your spin;
I can see them pulling at every muscle tucked beneath your skin.
You pop and you crack and it vibrates against the walls.
I shutter at the sound
the sickening, awful sound.

Sometimes I wonder if you believe in the miracles
that fall between my pelvis,
or the heavy breath I breathe between parted lips.
Are my bones strong enough to save you?

Sweetheart, come to bed.
Your cautious footsteps are creeping back and forth,
up and down,
heavy footed across the ragged carpet.
I hear them every night aching so unholy,
from underneath my bed sheets.
You swear you're next to me asleep.
I hear them though you swear you've been asleep.

Most times I want to believe in the miracles,
I have promised you between night and day
and the soft lipstick stains I've left lingering lightly on every inch of skin
you've left so vulnerable to my kiss.
I wonder if its saving that you need.
Sweetheart, come to bed.

when the lights go out
all i think of is you
all i can think of is you

and i still blister
like you loved me yesterday.

Una kissed
each one breast

at a time,
so softly,

her lover,
thought of them

as melting,
unlike when

her husband,
dear Brian,

licked at them
like some hound

lapping up
rain water.

Una put
kisses on

each rib place,
gently there,

lips brushing,
moving on,

then she kissed
***** hair

to get there,
her lover's

honey ***,
her queendom

of Eden,
arched over

her lover,
she kissed deep,

lips melting,
snaky tongue

entering,
offering

no apple,
forbidden fruit,

but soft love,
bringing on

to the boil
of deep sighs

and throat sounds.
Her lover,

in her turn,
entered slow,

her middle
firm digit,

but gently
into that

Dublin ****,
which Brian,

her husband,
never could

bring himself
to finger enter

such a place
(such as hers

not Una's).
As Una

kissed softly,
her lover,

swooning hot,
then forgot

her Brian's
*** failing,

but enjoyed
so deeply

the kisses
and tonguing

of her hot
honey ***.

Solitude is addicting
As my head grows restless
And my thoughts take over
Washing down like a waterfall
But at the bottom
There is no oasis
Just rapids

Madness is inviting
As my thoughts bounce around my head
Like a tennis ball at Wimbledon
Knocked back and forth, searching for a victor.
Like 100 tiny voices fighting to be heard in an endless echo
It's like fighting for calm
In the middle of an endless ocean,
Struggling in the midst and mist of a hurricane
I'm thrown from the sanctuary of my boat
And plunge into the murky waters of insecurity
Drowning in sorrow, mistrust and anxiety.
I sense a calm and open my eyes
Just to be hit with another wave and pulled back under
Deeper than before.

i've counted the times
i've lied, i've lied and been caught;
i've given black eyes and blue bruises, received red watercolor kisses on my neck and purple ones between my thighs;
i've given a cold shoulder, a warm embrace;
i've tasted the hot tears of my own perpetration on another face,
and i've stifled my own to keep a family strong;
i've "I love you"ed
through gritted teeth,
as i throw a punch,
as my face is at her belt;
now, i count the footsteps in our favorite walk,
and the days until when at six a.m.
i will be studying the line between your brow,
framing your irises fixed on mine,
trembling as a blue lipped child out of water;
but if the future is now, and if now is then,
i will taste
the lies, lips, tears, and tricks
as fresh flowers on the crispness of this morning to come

she'll walk off
and you'll walk behind,
you feel like a man
and see everything in soft focus exposure
and her walking ahead, timid and feeling triumphant.
this was your first kiss
and not your last kiss
but your most important kiss;
the foundation kiss,
the scaffold kiss,
cathedral columns holding up the whispering gallery of this kiss.

or did you walk off
and she walked behind,
did she feel like a woman,
soft, warm, and kind seeing everything is a hard focus exposure?
that was her second kiss,
not her last kiss
and not her most important kiss;
it was a mill stone kiss,
a grist lipped ground-down-again kiss,
a motel-hotel-roadside chapel of cheap kisses kiss.