This morning

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I lay in bed this morning
and tried to imagine you there.
Would you be facing me?
Would I feel your breath on me?
Do you lay on your back?
Your belly?
Or would your back be to me?
What sounds would you be making?
Soft mewls like a kitten?
Loud and long?
Silent shallow breath?
If I whispered to you
would you respond?
Would you speak the words
I long to hear?
Would my name be on your lips?
Could I kiss those lips
to coax those words?
Could I kiss your neck
your back
your breasts
your belly
without waking you?
How many kisses would it take before you did?
If I reached out to touch you
how far could I explore?
How deep?
Would you respond to my touch?
If I pressed my growing hardness against you
would you press back?
Would you spread your legs just a little
as you slept?
Would you wake with a smile?
Invite me in?
Or would you pull away?

I will have those answers soon.
I will wake in the morning
hard with dreams of you.
Your name on my lips.
Your warmth
and your scent
mixed with mine.
The taste of you in my mouth.
Instead of this meager imagination
that drives my hand
to reach out to emptiness
as if you were there
and touches
only myself
I will feel you next to me
under me
driving my passion
deep inside
and we will know.

 

 

 

Speechless

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I am speechless
Not without words
They come too fast
Too many
To capture more than a few
I catch but snippets
Like lines from long forgotten songs
Begging to be sung again
Though they are songs I’ve never sung
Belonging to a life I’ve never led

“I long to feel the dance of our souls
To hear the mixing of our song…”
“… raised to heights
Of intense delights ..,”
“My lips pressed to yours
Our tongues touch and taste and tease …”
“… until infinity passes and we begin again…”

They come in flashes
Strobes of insight
Waves of passion
A flood of desire
that drowns out the words with its roar
and leaves me speechless in its wake

 

 

Image: from the Basal Roman Font Digitizations Project by the P22 Type Foundry

 

 

Good morning, Beautiful

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It is morning too soon.
The night has passed too quickly.
I ignore the clock that demands my attention
command it to freeze
and turn my affection
to you.

The passioned purr
escaping parted lips
with a smile and a stretch.
The low “G’mornin, Darlin?”
a whispered growl
as question.
The feel of you pressing against me
as you respond to the touch
of my fingers exploring
seeking out
and finding
invitation.

I will the rising sun to slow.
To halt.
To give us time.
Time to touch.
To hold.
To join.
To love.

To live.

The earth
caught in the gravity of our passion
slows its rotation.
The clock grows silent
to catch the beat of our heart
the rhythm of our love
and this moment
of ecstatic union
where our two souls join
as One
becomes eternal.

“Yes, my love, good morning.”

 

 

What I don’t (2011)

How is it
I find my self
Short on what I need
When I’ve paid so
For what I don’t

I look around
And all I see
Are fragments of
Fragmented dreams

Parcel wrapped
Absent soul
Empty eyes
Empty home

How is it
I have so much
That means so little
Or not at all

I look around
And all I see
Are pieces of
What’s left of me

Stinking carcass
Shedding skin
What’s left of me
Can’t begin

To find my home
To belong

I wonder what will become
Of the boy I was

And this man I’ve become?

Will he ever find his way home?

Image by J.M.Greff

I will not wait

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I spent the last twenty five years of my life waiting. Waiting for something or someone to give my life meaning.

I wait and wait and someone comes along and I rejoice in their appearance in my life. I have meaning and purpose! Joy!

Then they leave and I am left with questions and doubts and the waiting begins again.

I wait for the time to be right to do those things I want to do. I get close and then something happens that puts those plans on the back burner again. Maybe next week. Next year.

I even wait for myself to achieve the level of awakening that I believe will allow me the right, that qualifies me, to pass what little knowledge I have to others but each step I make on this path only reveals what little I actually know and the sheer impossibility of the task.

Still I wait.

In the end all I am waiting for is death.

I’m done waiting.

I will not be left behind by my own apprehension. I will embrace my impatience because at fifty three I have much less time to waste waiting for something or someone or anything or anyone than I ever had and as each day passes I have even less.

I will not wait to die
Or raise myself
To touch the sky
I will go on
Though the path has no end
If I must
I will travel alone
I will not wait to love
I have been gifted
With love
I will not wait to express it
To share it
Even if only with strangers
I will not wait until it clears like a mist
I will make a storm of it
And all who are caught in that storm
Will know
I did not wait

I think I’ll go camping this weekend… or maybe next…

 

Image: “Left Behind” by Hussam Eissa