A Letter To Your Restraint, From Mine…

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Have you never noticed this living, breathing, heavy space between us? It tastes like metal, it tastes like a cage, but on the tip of my tongue, it tastes like desire. It is explosive, and every time I exhale, I push it farther, willing it to expand, to try and extinguish the flame. Because I see you do the same.

Conversations tilt, as your breathing alters – each word measured, each tone enslaved in reins. The language we use, I long for it to be coarse. I long for us, for you, to tear away these drapes of grace, of propriety. A wildness lurks in the corners of your speech, that sometimes escapes, in the way you smile, in the scent of oceans that you wear. I long for that wildness to be the norm.

And I want you to be with your hands and mouth what I want you to be with your language.

Do you not see how we embrace, yet fear touch? Do you not see the air come alive to burn us, every time our fingers come too close? Do you not feel the electricity – it’s white hot. Flowing lava would seem a meek river finding its way to the sea.

Restraint does not come easy to me. I have only learned to give in, and I have only learned to take. Being in close quarters with you is a test of my endurance. It nudges me to break the rules that keep us apart, this illusion of a false morality.

Is this a tale of torment? If not you, then who is to answer?

Do not tell me I’m blind; your eyes pine, and I see the thirst in your fingers. I see my heart forgetting its discipline, and my mind’s muddled with thoughts – thoughts of the lines and curves that form your lips, that I’m sure taste like cinnamon.

Tell me what is it that you fear, even though I already know. Are you afraid of losing yourself? Do you worry you can never come back from this, once you cross that invisible line? Tell me again, and make it real, so I keep these desires in cuffs and chains.


Image Source: Shutterstock

Across the Temple Hall

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Where were we,
Among those writhing
Bodies oiled with sweat
And passions hot,
Less an orgy,
More a war,
Were they all busy,
When our eyes met,
Across the temple hall.

Another dusk,
Another year,
We prostrate ourselves
Before our chosen gods,
On a higher plane
We may have been
Yet when I turned around
Our eyes met,
Across the temple hall.

And now I meet,
You yet again
In a graveyard
Of midnight’s dreams,
Stranger, who are you?
Do you know, I burn,
For you,
Like fire on blood red
Carnations at noon.

 

Linking to dVerse Poets OLN

Intertwined Madnesses

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Like the wine we sipped

Moments before,

Just moments before,

Her raven hair lay spilled

Across my silken pillows

The shade of pearls;

And again, and again,

I ran my hands through them;

Our madnesses intertwined,

Like creepers and slithery serpents

On monsoon nights.

 Written for dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille 11