She walked up and even I’d admit
it was no accident, we fell into bed.
There’s something remarkable about
the girl and her powerful shoulders.
Powerful perhaps, the hours spent
doing her Yoga exercises twice a day.
Her long lean muscles, impossible really
never needed additional definition.
Of all things, it wasn’t her shoulders
that needed the extra support, but who
am I to say what the the girl needs, or
any girl for that matter, I’m just a poet.
At rest, her skin is flawless, glass smooth.
I draw these tiny little figures on her,
leaving red marks with fingernails.
She arches and pushes back, tracing harder
the tiny little figures, bleed.
She wants naturally rough hours,
in the sheets when we lay.
Each new episode of us falling into bed
there just happens to be an addition.
Something to push boundaries
naturally corners put her fists into place.
Knot-less loops, I wanted to see
how her shoulders would respond
to the looseness, she spun and said,
“Fucking tie them.”
Want vs Need.
The girl needed the power to shift
too pretty to take commands from others.
Something in her, is a little different,
she begs to beg to take her feelings away.
She doesn’t want soft kisses,
she goes to Yoga twice a day
to build her muscles so her shoulders
are strong enough
to lift us both.
