Share your thoughts with mine,
half slacked and entwined.
I want you
it won’t matter where we sleep,
as long as we’re both there
touching skin to skin
like the last time at your house.
Looking in has always sounded nice
don’t refuse the invite,
poet are you there?
I could make you my very own
convenient excuse why I’d use you
to distract my broken mind.
I should stop wanting
because there are others
who would lift me.
I cherish the written word
because who really knows
when I’ll get the chance again
to make literary love to you
putting delicate skin on skin.
I may run out of words
long before I get the chance
to tell my publisher
I want you.
Even that stubborn voiceless side
that refuses to tell time to go away.
All over your body
I have yet to explore that one sacred place
where the pretty thoughts emerge.
Oh I swear,
I have not forgotten your words,
the hint of regret while telling me
in some ill thought of way
to busy your heart broken mind
I’m the perfect distraction.
Almost like the junk
in our childhood kitchen drawers.
My love goes out to you tonight, cheers,
here in my broken place
I swear I’m not ignoring you.
My heart begs to be the center again,
it’s a tragedy that slowly plays
spilled out on the streets
for all the others to drive by and witness.
The hero will come tomorrow
with baskets full of favorite things
to remind you what love is supposed to be.
I have a feeling you’ll dance again,
but this time when you’re on top
of an unsuspecting world
they’ll have no idea you’re somewhere else.
Never mind the things I’ve said here,
just remember if,
you truly are my poet
you’ll want again.