I can’t even tell you.
The truth
Is that I do not have a choice
On this planet
But to quit
But to be quiet
Because I’ve said so many things
Because I’ve tried so many times
Because I have not quit
Because I’ve not been quiet
Because I still love you
And that love is foreign.
If you knew how I live,
Would you ever go away?
Would you ever want a moment alone,
Or would you want to bask in me?
If you knew how I see you,
Would you care to look away?
Would you fall in love, as I do,
With every thought, word, action in you?
Are you afraid to be Narcissus,
Afraid to lose your false humility,
Afraid to gaze in the glaze of waters
Afraid to be who you were born to be?
Are you afraid to be so close to me
Because you’re afraid to be so close to you?
Afraid to admit the girl you love
Because she is so nearly you?
Give me a moment with your mind.
Give me a moment in your heart.
Give me your hand, your lips, your you;
Let me put everything in view.
Yes, I do have a mind –
but I have a body, too
and I deserve to be touched
to be worshipped
to be admired
to be adored
as any cloud
as any storm
as any flower
as any fruit:
I deserve to have my hand plucked from my side, where it rests
like a flower, casually plucked from the ground
and kissed, the tender flesh of my hand as gentle
as any flower’s silken petals that may brush your nose
I deserve to have a river’s run of caresses up the length of my arm
my taut muscles like a riverbed of polished rocks
yearn for the fluid motions of your heart in action
for the flickering motion of lips like fishes swimming in a stream
I deserve a steady trickle of fingers slipping up my thighs
my body a heaving river fed by your ever-increasing streams
spilling helplessly over and over again
I knew our days were numbered,
from the start:
Your soulful, aching gaze lingering;
Your life, your willful ways chaining;
You were a longing man amongst a pride of lions;
I am a free woman amidst a pride of artists.
And my ire was stirred, even then:
Your lasting, lustful gaze demanding that I sit,
My legs, my body openly on display;
My soul, my passion rippling ‘round that room.
And you were my match, yet bound comfortably;
And I was yours, yet bound uncomfortably.
You demanded that I sit,
That I watch you take me in,
That I know your every thought,
That I know you would not stir.
And I, so hungry for your touch,
And I, so thirsty for your voice,
And I, so angry for your will,
And I, so helplessly lost in you.
You do nothing that your mind demands of you.
You do nothing that your heart demands is true.
You do nothing that your will was meant to do.
You do nothing that a man is supposed to do.
And in that place, I am a prisoner.
And, in that place, I am bound to you.
And, in that place, I know everything there is to know about you.
And, in that place, I am utterly bound to you.
May I ask for what I want, from you?
May I ask for what I want most, for what is true?
May I ask that you are my friend, my lover, my dearest love?
May I ask for all that you know is true?
Come back to me, forever and a day,
And stay with me, forever through our life,
And linger with me, until infinity,
And forget me only long enough to gaze, bewildered, once again.
Come back, my love.
Come back and kiss my skin
In all the places I bid, unspoken;
Come back and find my heart unbroken, and yet bruised;
Come back, for you, for me.
Oceans of Mine 