A Burning Sensation

Love or lust?

She asked herself

when he looked at her

like he did,

 

A quiet dinner

for two, quiet until

he yelled, loud and bothered

“A burning sensation, has me in

its grips!”

 

Love or lust?

She wondered again,

would he, should she, why did he choose

this moment in time?

 

“The cheese fell out of my tortilla,

burning, a burning sensation

down below!”, he cried

 

She knew, Oh yes

She knew,

It was lust after all….

To Jab You in the Heart

I wielded my pen,

and papered my way with the darkest

of inks,

to jab you in the heart,

with my prose

 

A fist fight ensued, in which

I fought off all jealous lovers

using my sharpest wit,

and daring cunning,

 

But your eyes turned away, and yet,

towards me, in that direction,

where I a reflection, saw

in a pool so deep, so calm, and so cool

 

Your eyes like pools, darkened,

and words like ripples, meeting

joining, like prose

being written upon,

 

My words and your words as well,

inks and shining swords, clashing

-becoming one

-becoming one…

 

 

 

Not Thinking About You

We do that

a lot, it seems

not thinking about each other

being the best way to be, or if

we did, and what of that, of thinking

and acting, and wanting, although it is better

you know? Not thinking of you, not being

with you, close enough to touch, the bother of

such things like that, is remedied by the lack of thoughts

 

that we share about each other..

Stormy Intentions

Being windy

or calm

the difference between

us two,

She took me

by storm, and I

being placid in

my thoughts, was caught

unawares,

Thrown about

like a ship on the seas

No certain balance, found

No up, and no down,

not unlike love, unbounded

 

Her Stormy Intentions,

being much too powerful for,

an unprotected port

like me…

If We Were Them

I told her

a story, about us

and them

 

“If they were us, and we them

then you and I

would be

together”

 

She shook her head in dismay

“Why would I want to be

them? They are not us, but

we are, who we are”

 

“I’ll try again”, said I, not being upset

“If you were her, and I him

then together we

would be us”

 

“The distinction, the

understanding of us being them

and not who we are, is not where I thought

we should be”, she said dejectedly,

 

“You see, slowly”, I said

“If we want to be us, and not them

then we could, figuratively,

be together, but only in our

imaginations, as it seems that

we, being us realistically

in your mind, not

possible is”

 

Metaphorically speaking….