I loved to eat your *****.
I always did,
But after a while together it started to feel like a chore.
And I've always known that once things like that start to feel that way
The relationship is doomed.
But it was not really a relationship,
At least no more than this here is a poem.

I think that sums up what we had
And what you mean to me.

We kiss
She twirls her tongue in my mouth,
Then gently bites on my lower lip
I kiss her on the neck
Nibble on her earlobe
And whisper something in her ear
She puts her empty glass of wine on the floor
I kiss her on her left shoulder blade
And in the middle of her chest
I move on to her *******, her *******
And kiss on her ribs
And just below her navel
She holds my wholly ***** love
And guides it to her opening
And I wrestle myself inside
And feel her wet ecstasy
As the rain pours
Outside

It’s early night and I am at her place
I am lying on the roof and looking at the stars
And thinking of The Milky Way
And other distant galaxies.
She’s out at a party
Probably dancing with other boys
And cussing me out to her friends
Telling them how much she hates that I am a recluse
And that all I want to do is sit at home.
She’s such a flirt,
She’s smoking hot and she knows it
She leads the boys on, she smiles at them suggestively,
Sometimes grabs them on the ***.
I’ve seen her do it a couple of times.

It’s late night and I am still at her place
I am still lying on the roof and still looking at the stars.
I light a cigarette,
It is my 2nd of the night.
Just then I hear someone walk in,
She's back.
She spots me and hollers out to me
What are you doing up there, crazy? Come down and sit with me, won’t you?
And I watch her as she walks in
Kicking her heels off at the door.

I’m lying in bed with her
She has a big smile on her face
As she tells me
Where she went
Who she danced with
Who tried to kiss her
And what she drank,
But I am not the least bit interested.
She takes her clothes off
And then mine
The *** is good, as always
But it is different.
It is slow
And intimate,
It feels like I am ******* a sad and lonely woman.

She falls asleep
With her head on my chest.
I gently place a pillow below her head,
I walk out of the room
Out of the house
And up on the roof
Again.
I sit on the edge,
My legs dangling,
I light a cigarette and wait.
The only thing is
I don't know what I'm waiting for.

Your fingers
Your dainty fingers, so nimble
The way you roll a cigarette
Then light it and put it in my mouth
And look at me as I smoke.
The smell of vanilla flavoured tobacco
In the air
You lean in to kiss me
Wanting to taste the smoke
From my mouth
We look at each other,
The miracle of mouths and eyes.

It’s always the little things that I remember most,
You lying on your back, naked
Your legs apart, bent at the knee
My tongue in between
The arch in your back
The gentle swelling of your flower
That image of you, in ecstasy
Gasping
Like shortness
Of breath
Oh, the bedroom
And the fun we have in it,
Who said we need to be outdoors
To explore?

The morning sun
The clear blue sea
The smile on your face
Which is more beautiful?
You grab your camera to take photos
I grab my pen to write poems,
Each of us has our preferred method
Of documenting these memories,
But then how could we ever
Forget them?

She's cute
And delicate
And adorable
And sweet
And bubbly,
She has me swooning.
I crackle with joy
At the sight of her,
I hug her so tight
And she squeals
With delight.

It's so weird how the freckles on her face
Remind me of the cinnamon-sprinkled coffee my mother makes
She has freckles on her back too
I don't know if you know this
But that can be very attractive.

She likes literature
And art
And the way I paint pictures
With my words.

In bed she's a bit shy
She blushes a lot
And bites her lower lip,
Gives me expectant looks
Asks me questions sweetly and awkwardly.
It's all so soft and gentle
And achingly tight
When we make love
It's violently beautiful.

Misreading signals that don't even exist, trust problems, attachment issues,

She's tired of it, she's sick of it, still she's crazy over him,

Tell me, are your eyes still green?

But she won't talk.

She's not trying to hear about my day either, or my type of girl,

She's rolling a joint while I shift gears

I can see her trying to push back tears,

Here's an ear but she won't speak, here's a shoulder but she won't lean,

She feels needy and I can tell, she's vulnerable and I can see,

We're in my room and she wants to ****

But how do I do it without me feeling like I'm taking advantage?

And how does she just give me *** without her feeling like she's one of many?

We laugh.

Nothing's funny

But we laugh anyway.


At night, I replay the scenes of that day in my head

As the hot water from the shower washes away

The familiar smells of ***, cigarettes, and alcohol from my body-

But the guilt, that doesn't wash away.