oh no you didn’t

Sometimes the temptation to recite the piece myself just overwhelms me. I guess. Being silly and all.

did I really mean that
to be quite so me
so toe-tapping mid-day
napping, rising then to
down a dram to meet
the evening’s demands me

because, let’s face it
oh you silly man
you face-scrunching
crisps-crunching grunt
of a man planning and
plotting his seduction

scheming day to day
a meaty conquest that
never transpires while
aspiring to greater heights…
somewhere just above
the knee, I’d imagine

gasp! what? what did he say?
oh indeed, yes, just there
somewhere twixt your
luscious derriere and
most glorious gams—
oh no you didn’t!

your words

I have read them again and again
your words,
hearing more and more deeply
your voice
as it strives to convey impressions
within me,
stretching across untold eternities
in mere seconds.

They pulse within me, throbbing
through my veins,
tensing beneath my eager hands
with each recitation,
grasping the hardening certainty
of my desire,
my most persistent adoration of,
my love, you.

[in honor of my Love, and inspired by David’s (“ben Alexander’s) “The truth is poetry, or: is it?” which was in turn inspired by Lia’s “The truth is”. Cheers, mate.]