i pick an orange for my love
rough exterior hiding softer insides
the gentle curve, the sweet scent, the bright color
i peel an orange for my love
the rind falls to the floor like––
i hold it in my hands like i hold her heart
i eat an orange for my love
each segment curved like her sunshine smile
the juice dripping like––
my love is like an orange blossom
she blooms only for me

hand on the divine
your curves, like italian marble
body as a work of art

not just a woman but a goddess
and i'm down on my knees

watermelon lingering on your tongue
i lap it up in waves

golden rays of sun, kiss Your soft cheeks.
and clovers sprout in the path You followed.
Your pomegranate lips softly hum, melodic a
as a nightingale's song. I ache for a taste.
Oh my persephone, bring on the season,
where hyacinth blooms and morning dew
sleeps soundly on fields. Your lovely soul,
as pure as springs beauty. for star-shine
sparkles in your eyes. lighting up all of
earth, all of My life along with it. gentle
hand, intertwined. bless me with Your
glace. baptize me, pomegranate kiss.
planting seeds inside, My heart. budding,
growing. my Love for You, flourishes like a
garden. forever abundant.

You grab my hand, pull me out of the madness.
Take me to that place, where You’re the only face,
I can see. Careful fingers unbraid cherry curls,
draping a tightly-held cardigan, on the anorak’s
open arms. And when I look away, guide my
eyes so they gaze into the aquamarine of Yours.
Planting soft kisses on my barren cheek,
You water me. Talking with a voice far
sweeter-sounding than a lyre. Words draping
over me like velvet, until I find some of
my own. No longer dictated by a script.
Gently peeling back the layers of myself,
you finally find my soul. Once blue, now
Golden-hued, thanks to You.

my pretty darling,
aphrodite's beloved,
i will love you when slumber calls for my name
i will love you when the tangerine sun rises in the day
in-between minutes,
the fissures in seconds,
i love you in those intervals

Her figure in my bed
relaxes, half obscured by silk sheets;
there’s a sweetness to her uncovered form,
not in a way that is ****** or arousing,
but for how it speaks of comfort in my presence
like we are so adapted to each other
that nothing is strange or foreign to us—
even the vulnerability of nakedness.

And like a goddess, she pulls me in to her chest,
a whisper of soft and beautiful flesh;
there, I imagine us as once born from the ocean,
with pearl strewn hearts and wanton eyes,
as goddess meets goddess among seafoam and silk.

Rain soaks our clothes, leaves us breathless and cleansed.
The lights bounce and shimmer; a thousand lights on us.
Coppery and acidic, but it doesn’t overpower the taste of you.
Drunken girls laugh into the night like gulls in the morning.

Ignore the looks; kiss me, put your lips on mine.
Smear my pink lipstick, make your pretty red stick.
Fist my sweater and pull my heart out; keep it with yours.
Tug the strands of my hair, pull me closer; don’t let the divider in.

It’s cold in the rain, so mingle our breaths
and create hot, steamy fog to keep us warm.
The lights are on us, but **** it; let’s give ’em a show.
They want the rain to drown us; let’s slow dance.

Hold my waist, reel me in like a love song.
Sip my lips like cheap beer, savour me like wine.
Bruise me like a peach; kiss it better.
Feel the wind sting our cheeks; try to blow out our flame.

Whispering in my ear, he’s looking, isn’t he?
Kissing the frown from your lips, yes, he is. Who cares?
Let the hateful ******* sneer and scorn.
I’ll still love my lover in this storm.

On perfect nights,
my room is bathed in incandescent hues.

It reminds me of white-vaulted ceilings
and
soft worship music

The air tastes stale,
Your incense clouds my brain,
While white noise fades away.

The hills and valleys of your body are my altar
and I fall to my knees to pray

I can't tell the difference between
your mumbled sweet nothings,

and

Hail Marys
tumbling from a sinner's lips.

notches on the bedpost
i'd rather count the freckles on your skin
i do not have a bedframe, an empty plaque
but i have my little scrawls of whim
and the tumbling scars on my back,
a rather pallid mosaic
of the sheer audacity of living
but please, count them until daybreak?

i am sorry but my bones will always love you like hell, like it was war, like the world needs to end in the process, like the hand of god, taking you out of my ribs and now he needs to return it back where it rightfully belong. i will always love you, in godless sacrilege. i am sorry if i don’t know any other way.