On my knees, I’m more.
Under your hands, I’m real.
In your eyes, I’m found.
I am the gift you take.
I need.
Category: Poetry
If
If I had stopped to button my coat,
If I had skipped class that day,
If I had gone to another library or another school…
Would I have met you?
If you hadn't worn those pants,
If you hadn't walked in front of me,
If you hadn't said, "Hey."
Would you be at my side now?
Would you be at my side still,
When your hair has thinned and mine is grey?
Why you, why me, why us?
Hard
A hand to hold against the emptiness?
A shoulder at my side?
A smile that says he knows me?
Laughter in the dark?
I want all of that, I do.
But now,
Now, I want the pounding.
Your hands on my hips,
Your body in mine.
I want the slam of us.
I want hard.
Transfixed
Perfection does that,
Stops you cold.
The eye sees beauty,
The mind picks it apart
An alignment of bones,
A covering of skin,
The commonality of the human body.
Wherein lies beauty?
What If?
If I was younger,
Would you see me?
If I was male,
Would you be interested?
If I was wealthy,
Would we be possible?
So young, so beautiful.
Clear eyes, smooth skin.
So young, so perfect.
If I could be everything I’m not
Would you love me?
Would I love you?
Want
He moved,
His open jacket revealing and concealing
Grey suit pants over narrow hips.
Black belt
He tugged,
Fingers pulling at a silk knot
Grey tie slipping down a white shirt.
Black belt
He folded,
Rolling his shirt cuffs up
White bands framing strong arms.
Black belt
He unfastened,
A silver buckle on a strip of leather
The portal to pleasure.
Black belt
