Wednesday, October 9, 2013


sunlight dancing on our skin
intertwined lazily under a central park tree
exchanging vibes, musical harmonies
pacing our lust, small doses
holding hands and gazes
adorned in the graces of his presence, touching faces
his fingertips slowly graze over my lips 
swollen from his kiss and a touch of cannabis

could a bliss be so simple?

we weave through the city
slowly, inconveniently, rebelliously
pestering pedestrians as we walk 
heavy with our hearts
staggering intoxicated with wanderlust 
of new york city and... us

who is this man?
who is this MAN -- my inner teenager demands
who is this man who envelops my entire physical being with his callous hands 
and his tattooed frame?
who is this man that i so willingly gave access to my time and affection
my vulnerability and my pain?
what does his soul taste like?
when will i step on a landmine in his mind  --
what does his anger look like?
what parts is he, and what parts are his tributes?
what parts are us, and what parts are quiet desperations?

and i wonder
could he ever love me inbetween my lines of ethereal/juvenile
... could anyone?

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