Pretty

Pretty girl,
exchange this man’s body for a beautiful face,
24 hours,
to see what it’s like, what it takes
and the looks and the glares,
men making fools of themselves.
Throwing their desperate bravado in your path, looking for ways to outdo the last.
Legs for a mile to kick them all away, poor saps looking to score, one-liners and allniters.
In the presence of beauty,
when nothing on the inside means anything to you.
On the outside,
my thighs and chest, cleaving mockery of fools.
Just one day.
To know how it feels.
Pretty girl.
I don’t blame you,
to feel the way you do.

Beautiful Mess

You’re a mess, the long blonde tress,
artificial curl, teasing neckline and tattoo fresh, peering out from under your loose t-shirt, wondering aloud how you made it to this point.
Red lips and bad trips, letting go of needles and past lovers in an addictive grip.
You beautiful mess, tearing up the night,
with the only way you know how to fight,
taking each shot at life,
wandering drunk and forlorn into the stark cold, abcense of light.
Will this be your groundhogs day,
played over and over until it ends this way?

Cigarette in hand, lipstick drenched filter…a long inhalation and a sigh, but no relief.

Once the Sky, Now Mine

Take a moment to catch your breath.
Blow that last wisp of air against my neck.
Guide my hand under the sheen of your guise,
don’t hide your smile, your lips were meant to please mine.

The curved silhouette, your scent, hanging long, removed from this space.
The touch of patchwork memories, wanting, longing, overcome by your face.
Working under an emblazoned sky, until the end of time…

Pillows in the Sky

Lazy morning dynamics, how my mind shifts.
Yesterday’s blazing heat gone, climate shifted with my head, amplified and drifts,
and now everything feels right.

I watch the skies float on by, someones hand guiding their way, over-stuffed pillows hanging in perpetual motion.
Viewed from this speck- I must look so tiny from up there.

The day is for reminiscing, a distance from where the morning blooms.
Here in my head, enough space for two, or maybe on my lap, seated- just me and you.

I sit here waiting for the beauty of another chance at life.
Sunlight smiles down, the plight of serenity, and everything just right.
Clouds roll by, conveying how simple this all is…

Counting Daylight

The need for you, us… lust
and to deny human touch.
Where were you all those years?
I gave up.
My head scanned for you, imminent souls colliding,
physical yearning, and nothing left to deny me.
Nothing special here,
I saved my guts to stretch
out on your bed,
just to hold the back of your head,
your neck clamped in my vice grip fingers.
Weigh me down and pinned inside your spare, fervent thighs,
so tightly wound, box me in,
make the sheets tremor and writhe.
Left to the mercy of night, or anytime the urge
takes you from prostrate,
to legs and waist,
coiling in the sheets where I can find your warm spots,
wasted not– but taken fully in stride,
and grappled flesh, impossible to hide.
Never lost on a man, who cannot adore you enough.
Counting the digital numbers, seconds, and texts;
all drawn out in hours, not breaths
… Until the next moment we touch.