In dreams I’ve seen him smile. Seen a shadow play across his face, heard laughter bubble up, quickly replaced by a different dance. I like to pretend I know him. I don’t
I like to pretend I know him way down deep in secret, magical places. Imagine my toes dipped into pools of him. Imagination can be dangerous when you use it so unwisely. How alluring he can be!
How utterly unfathomable! Sensual? In his keep-them-at-arms-length style. How hard he is, in his soft way. How well he silently teaches me to be more open, forthcoming, real (?).
Such protections we have! So necessary, so damning! Still, I want to look into his eyes.
And see his fists fall open like lotus blossoms.
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i know no better experience than growing your own strawberries, except, perhaps, eating them.
2 comments:
I can see your sadness coming thru in the poems.It seems you were hurt bad. Can you not be happy with your lover?
I don't feel sad. :) maybe because i wrote about it?
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