Does she move around on golden slippers?
Filigree patterns cast about the cobbles as she walks?
Is her hair sunrise ? Her eyes the chocolate we used to share ?
Do her fingers weave coloured threads for your bed
So that her skin touches only delicate cloth when you lay her down.
She must have silk for skin
And breasts made of pure ivory
Her lips must taste like fire
Her flesh the very amber you put on my ring.
She must be angel and devil’s breath
Cast in a mold of the purest gold.
Always young, never old
Pure of thoughts but also bold.
Why else have you left me Sir?
Why else do you dither?
She doth bloom while I must wither.
Oh how lovely it is to find my thoughts in order
Neat. Tidy. A fence around their border.
Not scattered. Not shattered.
They used to be so tattered.
Blowing around me like a tornado.
Me, a rag-doll in the centre
Bruised and tender.
Who was I back then?
I couldn’t tell you.
Each piece of my brain was spinning in different directions.
I couldn’t focus on any section.
I was capable of everything. Of nothing.
I felt… I felt… small.
I felt it all.
Too much. Much too much.
Oh how nice it is to be so contained.
Knowing exactly how I feel.
Keeping it ‘real’.
I am at last restoring.
Then why do I feel so boring?
I tripped over your disapproval today
It was on the floor and in the air
I breathed it in and out
It coated the bones and veins of me
Made me sluggish, afraid to move.
I couldn’t get past it
I couldn’t leave the house
It’s vice like fingers dug into my shoulder
Oh I wish I was bolder.
I wish I could kick instead of trip
I longed for you through inky night and harsh sunlight
I called on the stars to help me.
I summoned the winds to bring you near.
My every thought was spattered with you
Scattered by you.
Your effervescent tongue had awakened every nerve.
I felt flooded by your spirit
Engulfed by your soul.
And then it stopped.
And you called.
Our love belongs to the sometimes.
You had me once. I was all yours.
But we didn’t work that way.
Night and day.
So meet me in the shadows.
Some lovers need shade.
The sun is for the lizards
We’re better underground
Hiding in dens, warrens.
A trickle of light is all we need
To feed , to feast.
But sometimes at least.
There’s a grimy,slimy trail you leave
When you touch my face
It sticks to me for weeks and I can’t shake that sludge
It won’t budge
You slither away under a rock
And I whither in the heat
Deplete. You deplete me.
I keep doing it over and over.
“You can’t teach an old dog ” and all that
I guess I’m a mutt because I’m certainly no bitch.
Only to myself.
Can I dabble in you?
Stick my spoon in and sift through the liquids of your soul?
Your cauldron will bubble
Skin, nails, stubble.
I will scoop at the good bits make them float to the top
But just as you boil over
I will stop.
Simmer. Simmer. Simmer.
You know I go witch way.
That the follicles of your heart
Are mine to control
Along with your soul
And every other inch.
Pinch. Pinch. Pinch.
A bit of this and that
Added to the mix
Stirring you up
You’re froth. Broth.
Moth to my flame.
Bubble. Bubble. Pop.