Do you remember that night
The one where I spent hours discovering you
My eyes never leaving you
The tips of my fingers softly brushing against every
inch of you
Each raised bit of worn flesh
Each bent hair looking to be shepherded or smoothed,
reminded where it fit
Hours, weeks, months and years worth of time spread
across your frame
The delight in finding deeply satisfying perfection
on the ridges of your perceived imperfections
The sides of my tight jaw loosening with the lubricant
that is your particular aromatic…
That blast of a memory that starts at the back of my
throat and trickles slowly down the length of me
And back……
Do you remember?
I do….
I remember You
Will everyone get you?
Understand or appreciate your you-ness
Nope
They won’t
They won’t all see those sexy crinkled bits of truth
and time as a spread open novel
They might give you a quick glance and deem your matchless
shape, look, smell or feel difficult
Lacking in the possibility of giving pleasure…
If only they knew
I remember….
Simple doesn’t take or require as much…
Doesn’t give as much either
I welcome the less polished
The less finished….
The story to be read through my skin
My mouth
Our story
Felt and not calculated
You can’t score with me but I promise you, your
tender and soft fingers on my heart, spreading my lips apart and holding my jaw
still and quiet as you pour your, everything into me…
I will remember
Posts
6 comments:
Dang... I need that...
Jess,
I was visiting with a Champagne that falls into that crevasse between delicious and quirky, just the kind of wine that has inspired 100s of fucking blog posts about who's taste is better or more correct, just got me thinking about all the sexy scars, bumps, oddly shaped bellybuttons and crooked grins that I've spent time with. Things not perfect or shinny, pretty or grotesque....but interesting as hell and all bits of something, or someone, I thought enough about to explore. So I babbled this here...
Nice to see a kind name here waiting. xoxoxoxx
I want your...
...sensitivity. And ability to recall.
Thank you for this poetry.
Dale,
No, thank you, for reading it.
Came across these words by Barry Lopez, Samantha, and they brought you to mind:
"...if she wishes to write well she will have to become someone. She will have to discover her beliefs, and then speak to us from within those beliefs. If her prose doesn't come out of her belief, whatever that proves to be, she will only be passing along information, of which we are in no great need." Can't think of anyone who speaks more clearly from her beliefs. And we are blessed.
Your pal,
WtE
Winey My Pal,
Consider me immensely puddled. Thank you dear man, you made my day.
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