Tiptoed Kisses

Your love
Lingers on
My tongue,
My words,
My love,
My need’s beseech —
Your measure
Higher than
My reach.

With hands
Of gentle
Cradle my
Upturned chin.
Take from me
Love’s splendor;
Devine me
Skin to skin.

Graze softly
Slowly on my
Cherry lips.
Drink from me
Love’s Salted bliss
With the tender
Passion of each
Tiptoed kiss.

Love Me Like a Metaphor

Love me like a metaphor
Bathe me in your words
Intoxicate my thoughts
Enliven me in verbs.

Expectorate my breathless tone
Nullify my pain;
Conjugate each falling star
Steady love’s refrain.

Saturate my voiding call
Release my siren’s song;
Novocain my soul’s uproar
Make all my rights your wrong.

Speak forms of love in diction kind
Sing lilting songs of joy;
Command the syntax of our hearts
Erase our sins’ decoy.

Conjunct in me your grace, your strength,
Inspect my passion’d curves.
Come diagram my heat undone,
Relent my sweet reserves.

Love me like a metaphor
Call forth my form’s desire
Satiate my needs aflame
Douse me with your fire.


Would You, Please?


Let me sit atop your thoughts

Like a bird safely nestled in the sprigs

Of your sticky words and my empty

Enormity. Your mind’s gorgeous

Ponderings fill my ears like violins

Shaking the ground beneath me.


Pontificate with lilting songs,

Dirge our love’s eternity,

Mirth the alacrity of my hate,

Elegize my sorrow’s flagrancy,

And put to rest

Those lies residing in me.


Satiate me with your love’s purity

Save me from my own prudent folly.

Surrendered truth drenched in pain —

Would you please tell me what to think?

I’m listening happily, in sweet serenity

At home in your love’s enamoring divinity.



It’s quite difficult to explain
The complexity of my heart…
But sipping your champagne’d thoughts
Mixes nicely with my berried ripeness…
It’s all so clear — the allure
Was more than just ordinary physical
Attraction; the depth of his gleaming eyes
Revealed the truth neither of us wanted
To say. His hands tell me more
Than his well-meaning words do,
Falling flatly on the floor of my heart.
It may trick you, but it will never lie.
Just give me another sip, another drop,
Another other taste, another raspberry
Tumbles into my effervescent love.
The bubbles suffuse the ache in my heart;
Your sharp love softens in my airy thirst –
Bursting vacancy and seething peace.
A smile leaves my lips as the tenuous warm breeze
Tickles my skin like hands gently brushing away
The unruly tendrils from my face –
Just one last sip of the glittering glass –
Set it aside, my heart will imbue your pain.
The sun washes over me —
Eyes clenched tightly —
His glittering rays pull at my skin –
Like tender fingertips grazing
My chin, my lips — just before
A sweet, delicate kiss.

Shattered Pretentions

cracked mirror

Who is this woman I see here in the mirror?
An unrecognizable face – porcelain’d
Pristine – cracking under the pressure
Of unknown perfection – this mask
Doesn’t quite cover the flawed disquietude
Of her heart. Riven splinterings of vague
Familiarity – painted realities of expectation –
This looking-glass girl confides in me –
Doesn’t she know that these salted tears
Never salve the pain? Can’t she see the love
That is wrapped around her from beneath the
Vaneer’d prison she hides inside?



Standing on the Water’s Edge

Originally posted on Read, it's what smart people do!:


I can see the sparkling light
Dripping from the sky. Heaven’s eye is
Glittering on the waves. Sunset’s glow is
Splashing on the shore. Wet sand is
Reflecting the radiance of a day gone by.

I can see the rolling water
Smashing on the sand. Powerful and strong,
Commanding my reverence, the water is
Receding back into itself. I follow it
Swirling into the flood, I am lost in its glory.

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Tis More to Love Than Hate


How do you love?
And in what capacity,
do you show your
heart’s unknown veracity?

The languages of love
are beyond me
and my measured
scope of dexterity.

Physical lusts —
smooth sensuality —
softly spoken words
of tender piquancy.

Time in shouldered
forms — sweet affability;
thoughtful gifts
of charmed delicacy.

Acts of kindness
and subtle surety
seeking services
of love’s superfluity.

Feel my disquietude.
Taste my contrariety.
Touch my void.
See my urgency.

Smell the fragrant
aroma of my briny
heart — bursting forth
in seething elegy.

Words — my toil,  my labor,
my only hope ostensibly…
Love — a mere understated expression
of my soul’s impassioned fervency.