Slide into me. I long for your fingers, your lips, your tongue. Primal and potent, I would tear you into strips of ribbon, I would dress my breasts in your spit, your cum.
Hold me, pull my hair that I’ve grown so long for you. Back arch, cat-spark, there is nothing that we can’t do. Enfold me, I am small enough to fit between your legs. We could be like paper birds, thrown into flight. Catch a fire, we will burn like Pompeii, volcanic-rock-hot that we are.
Tasting like wine and sex, I need to kiss you. Smell you. Touch you. Brushing my hair down the length of your body would be like prayers and cathedrals. Tempra and fingerbrushes, winter-lion sly, you are a mural across my flesh.
I am bold. I am shy.
Tens of thousands of years and I see you always beside me, on top of me, behind me, in front of me. You surround me; sodden, crushed, my sweet velveteen.
(we carry our bones, our blood, our love with tender hands. We wrap them in cigar boxes and yarn. we make love underneath the apples tree of our lost canary and we’ve cracked the walls of our home. but tender, always tender are our hands)
Symmetrical, we are fine grained and filtering through one another’s minds. I can nearly taste you. As though you are a hidden flavor on my lips, a discreet taste, a secret knowledge.
& it has nothing to do with falling, it has nothing to do with spirals and pyramids. It’s a suspension, more than a moment of pause. It’s a coming, a realization and a calming sense of now.
I want you.
I want you.
(self portrait + words 2013)