Oh, so passionate

is the spring wind! It's blowing --


my skirts wide open.

Intimacy falls
flat on her face against hard
concrete. Window-pain

of the soul opened.
She leapt out-- into mid-air--
Smashing-- abstracted.

Is she alive? No
one caught her. Vulnerable
to asphalt - turned down.

When we crossed paths again
The only intimacy that was shared
Were our shadows overlapping
And even then
Yours was the first to leave

Dance for me like you're not working-
smiling eyes, look deep in my soul.
The beat bumps irrelevant nothings
while I let you take control.

Hips speaking more than words,
and I sit and contemplate the show.
Although I'm paying, it's not faking
to say I don't truly know:

Was this moment real - and does it matter,
if I'm still happy when I get home?

slip into
a dewdrop 〜

take a swim
in grass blade
reflections

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?

My love will reach every atom of your being—
touching the physical with my lips,
the unseen with my heart.

And beyond the atoms,
my love will reach the mysterious force
that binds them,
the force that shaped you
into the soul I treasure.

With my soul,
I will connect to yours,
beyond the visible,
beyond the known.

Every drop of your sweat
is like the nectar of flowers.

But you are not a flower—
you are sweeter and more beautiful than that.

And I am not a bee,
for they taste nectar from every other flower.

I am yours alone,
devoted to no other.

Let me taste your nectar
and make me only yours.

Today’s full moon is so beautiful.
But I don’t enjoy watching the moon alone.
I want to watch it with you.

Though now, I don’t even want to watch the moon anymore.
I just want to watch you,
because you are even more beautiful.

Every night, after everything that happens during the day,
I want to fall asleep holding your hand on my chest—
sometimes smelling it, sometimes kissing it.

And eventually, at the end of my life,
I want to die this way:
holding your hand on my chest
as you feel my last heartbeat.