placid spear
hope you’re not weaponizing your appeal.
even if the robust stems look smooth,
i can see and feel every retracted thorn
brushing against my delicate skin
as i inch closer to your blue rose.
i can sense any vein pulsating ice-cold
when you wrap me in your fireplace arms.
“what a shame he gave in, he’s asking for it.”
at least i know the poison i picked—
or not. who gives a damn anyway?
i drink risks with good intentions
to taste deathly deceptions lurking,
tirelessly staying tranquil at the tingles of
your lightning touch with a starry gaze.
it’s easy to say i want you for your looks
but your presence is a magnet to my mind,
projecting a picture of my bare body
writhing in the mercy of cathartic surges
only you can inflict. only you can hurt
me—yes, paint me in erotic bruises,
my consent has long departed briefly
from my lips: a sigh comfortably unheard,
like my past melodies of amorous malady
muted by stereo searches for hasty highs.
i clothe myself like an easy catch
until i stride as elusive as a sailfish,
shapeshift into a star undressing into
lunar reflections on a cloudy night.
however, even such cautious roleplaying
can’t wither my weeds of yearning.
my body’s tattered from soulful gloom
and craving the rush of love like speed,
downing liquid lust—you hold the bottle
as i study the teachings of cupid's tricks,
i end up learning again to be a fool for you.
which makes me wonder: if there comes
a day where my old vigilance ceases to be
on a random saturday afternoon,
my undead honesty then resurrected
by my inner child glaring at such
sweet, tempting torment,
what will you do?
limber rivet
lime flame
ashen meadow
ember magnet
ashen lagoon