I want the love for who I am
And ought
To be
Free of yours for me

“You have to move, get up.”
“I don’t want to.”
“This is sad you need to get over yourself.”
“I’m broken, and I don’t think I can be fixed.”
“Then fake it. Get up and put on a smile.”
“It hurts too much; I just want to cry.”
“No crying! It’s not worth it.”
“But I just can’t let go…”
“You have to move on. It’s the only way.”
“Please, all I want is five minutes to let it all out.”
“You’re pathetic. Fine. Five minutes.”
“Thank you,” said the heart.
“You’re welcome,” said the mind.
And the heart and mind cried together.
Just for five minutes.

intrigue,
mystery
and
intelligence
will always
be a
poet's
aphrodisiac.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏿‍♂️👷🏻‍♂️

i have
  longed
to fill
  your
v()id
  not
for
   moments
but for
      .......
   hours


'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏿‍♂️👷🏻‍♂️

your
       naked

unique
                body     should
            only belong
    
               to someone ...

            that
               falls in love
                   with your
         naked
    
            unique

soul.

'Yours and  everyone's concrete-poet'
👷🏿‍♂️👷🏻‍♂️

You are a meteor shower on a canvas made of ebon sky.

You shed ice and dust with a glow that is easy to identify.

You shower me with beauty and steal away my breath.

You my love make the universe envy,
you are different than all of the rest.

A mouthwatering masterpiece of expression and galactic hue.

Tonight darling
tonight.....

i've never seen anything more beautiful than you.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️

Your teddy of white soft **** silk and lace,
covering your sweaty body in all the right places.
A soft kiss and a nibble on the nape of your neck,
south down your body slowly, a methodical pace.
Your inner thighs as hot as a melting ice cream cone,
I lick and I lick , fever pitched breathing , my shoulders you brace,
I make my way by the silk and the lace,
like candy from heaven, sweetness is all that I taste.
Legs draped over each one of my shoulders,
the summit is near , oh that look on your face.
The ceiling fan on high over a bed of sweat filled sheets,
cooling their bodies as if in a race.
Your teddy of white soft **** silk and lace,
gone without a trace.

'Yours and everyone's
'concrete poet'
👷🏻‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️

people see smoldering flames  
crawling up her veins
and think of empires collapsing into ash,

people watch her eyes spark
and feel her calloused electricity
and they convince themselves of her power  

she broods and she intimidates    
and they think she is strong
and they think she is dangerous
and they are afraid of her fire

even though the only thing she tries to destroy
is herself.