transference

We've passed from pleasure into pain,
a trimlined segue weeding through
the realm of improbability where sits
your heart and mine.
I have not conquered fear, and it shifts within me
as our mountains stretch into plateaus,
a dancing tendril of daylight creeping
around our purposeful midnight.
I am split open, wounded
for the ruminations, the overlapping rush hour
repetition mottled against our
every-day easy sensual nothing.

You are my sweetest downfall

Sky blue, a new sparkle - (Danish blue; the color of your eyes in June). 21 months of never recognizing. A quick seven months of prolonged wanderlust, desirious deliberation. Fanatical curiosity. I've never asked because I still don't want to know.

Each rise of rose to your cheeks, each maddening flush of my face. Each cryptically ignored register of proximity. You pulled me in when I wasn't expecting to be acknowledged, my tongue smoothly obliging to the context of the conversation that preceeded my entrance. The recesses of my mind tangled over the elevator kiss, trepidation and I dare, but you strayed and brought the focus to a side of you I've never known.

I mistakenly thought you were a passing fantasy.
I don't understand how I've allowed you to become more than that.

Today, you held my stare for a split second longer than average. In a room full of people. We were too close but not close enough -- always, always. There is fire linked between us and you squash the flame.

Intrinsically, I can't tell you if it's going to be or will always be a what if. My head is a blurred mess of fantasy crossing into our greyed-out reality. Did you understand what you wore today? And did you mean to catch my eye so many times, ride out my gaze while talking to everyone else? Did your eyelashes catch on fire from the inferno shooting from my heart?


You are fucking killing me in the most alluring of ways~

Keep with me forward, all through the night

You've infiltrated this house, leaving
fibers of indecency smattered with lust-
I smell you as I walk through the rooms,
a literal fucking ghost meeting me with each pace. I'd be angry
if it meant we'd fallen in love.
You spat the marriage word again, a familiar
intonation of the much-repeated wish to keep
me, tie me down, not let
anyone else have me. But that's not how you mean it.
You don't want me for love,
we want each other for lust. There would be others,
you explain over your naked torso and my lazy fingertips.
Us, and others. Together and separate, all at once and
never at all. For a moment, I think I could
play house with you:
house with a revolving door for our egos and our libidos,
house with an unspoken but laughed about connection.
We didn't get it together years ago, and we won't get it together
now, but where there is nothing to lose,
there cannot be loss.



(i like what we have become/your hands crushing into me/my tongue scalding over you/our naked breasts to our naked backs/you buy dinner/i buy breakfast)