Last Night

November 1, 2015

Last Night

Did it happen to you
the way it happened to me?

I am awake and you’re still sleeping
and self-doubt steals into my sleepy mind.
I’m awake now, though.

It felt magical, our meeting.
It felt incredible, being with you
all night. You opened doors
I’ve kept locked for years.

And here I am with the first light of dawn
worrying.
Should I steal away?
Find my clothes and go?

I begin to doubt it could have been
as good for you.
I start to fear you are not
who I think you are, or
I am not who you really want.

I move closer to the side of the bed,
tentatively feeling for my phone
or looking for a clock,
retreating already into
my safe, careful world,
one you don’t belong in.

And then you feel me stir and roll over,
capturing me again, drawing me back,
“No, not yet. Don’t go.”

Your voice suffuses me with the same
pleasure, well-being, and, admit it,
lust
as it did last night.

We melt together again,
and I remember.

Yes, it was that good.
Ah, yes, yes, yes,
You think so too.

.

Promise

October 18, 2015

Promise

It builds slowly, one hardly notices.
Like walking in the forest,
the ground underfoot sometimes softens,
the groundwater seeping up.
Soon one finds a spring,
a small place rife with fecundity,
or a trickle of water from a pile of stone.

Nobody suspected a softened emotion
not from me, serene and calm,
pacing through life untouched
alone.

They didn’t feel the moisture,
dampening the forest floor,
loosening the resolutions I made
when I was still in pain and certain.

They can’t breathe in the softness
the way I can when I feel your gaze
on me, asking me,
telling me,
demanding.

They had no way to see the hope
springing verdant
at the idea of you.

And then when at last your fear
and mine became weak against
our desire,
at last
we change
and all we are
all we can become
is heat
and fire,
taste and touch
and sweat-slick
ravishment.

How odd the world doesn’t change
when all inside me feels alive.

How is it the world is different now,
so welcoming
and alive with
the promise of more?

Conflict

March 28, 2013

Conflict

I wander through
my day-to-day
existence. Fine,
but things seem gray.
But that’s all right,
it’s all okay,
My element
-al passion play
is actually
a throw-away
the way I feel
right now, today.

And then you reach
out, talk to me,
and all my dread
-ful apathy
is swept away,
I’m undersea,
I cannot breathe;
our repartee
wakes my senses
makes me feel free.
And makes me fear
and want to flee.

But looking back
at my dull life;
its lack of joy,
its lack of strife,
and all my wishing,
all my grief,
my hopes for more
cut like a knife.
The things I do
seem empty, rife
with pointlessness.
This is no life.

And so I then
look back to you,
and see the joys
(and sorrows too)
that wait there for
me, all seems new.
I struggle, fight
what I know’s true
because I can’t be
in love with you.
I have a life.
You know I do.

But still my soul
longs for our love.
Longs for the days
of hand-in-glove,
of long warm nights
of making love
and holding on
and I think of
our passionate
and pleasured love
and angry spats
like fire above
and know that you
are my true love.

And how I long
to turn away
from my whole life,
from stodgy gray.
And run to you,
be led astray.
With no remorse
my life betray.
But there’s the bite
the edge, the fray.
To do as I
would like today,
we would then
cause such dismay.
I think again.
I turn away.