The Saddest Taboo

Love and hate are not so very far apart…

——————————

Not now, not ever

Nor through gritted teeth

Clenched harder than titanium nails

 

I won’t grimace it out

Not even were he

The very last man on earth

 

He won’t get the satisfaction

Nor merest glimmer

Of the damn I do not give

 

I’ll batten down the hatches

Deaden that swelling ache

And suffocate any rebellious word

 

He will not see a trace of me

Behind the lace curtain

No spoor, nothing, nada

 

This secret and I shall die

Together, silent, unspoken

I’ll stich my lips so tight, binding

 

Not now, not ever…

The Twilight Echo

That subtle imprint,

The etch

The sketch of him

 

Never saw the germ

Sneak under my skin

That gentle djinn

 

No showers or spas

Might lather away

Those twilight echoes

 

Nor would I want

 

His eyes tattooed me

His soul embraced

And it soothed

 

To be understood

And held so,

Caressed in tears

 

That profound

The meaning

A sublime

 

And none but I

Can tell

Face Got in the Way

Oh you stupid face!!

What trouble you cause!!

If it weren’t for you

I could love

 

All your bloody rules

and stupid pride

they have me cornered,

helpless, quivering

 

Why won’t you let me?

My clenched teeth

pursed lips

and bags of tut-tut-tut

 

If I ripped you,

ripped you off,

might I at last

dance naked in the rain?

As I

as I trickle down her thighs

on the way to the bathroom

 

and the taste of her

lingers

on my tongue

 

to tell its story

of the moon

 

 and the lock–clasp-lock

of another day

 

eases the shoulders on the release

 of

 this

 this need in me

 and

 in her

 

 as the pillow dent

lies warm for her

return

 

and the tom-tom savage in me

has now boiled

 

and the drawer

in her has opened

 

to soothe and to take

what she needs

 

and

 

in a moment

the pretence

of it

 

will hide

under the covers

 

and

 

in the snuggle

of our skin

 

now cooling in the night time air

and as raw as can be

 

and needing to touch

 much

 much more

 more

 now

 than before

 

 the distant stars will meet

 and the tenderness

will again

 let us rest

 

until the next time

 

Pas de Deux

Yes…

…..Yes

Perhaps he could

Be my master

 

If I choose to let him

 

And if…

….If he chose to take

It

Upon his shoulders

 

How much of me

Do

….Do I have to

Surrender?

 

Is it just

The flower of me?

 

To let him inside

Deep inside

 

For I know

I will have a devil of a time

To re-move him from

My ribs

 

He scares me so

……but

…but……

 

What

What is she up to?

 

With that gentle

Touch on my arm

 

And the hair

Tossed on the breeze

That hangs close

Enough to

Caress my face

 

And those questions

That, pull at me to answer

Dressed in the scent of

….Her

 

Perhaps

She wants me….

After all

 

Or does

She want me, to control?

 

To fetch and to carry

And service the nightly need

 

Why

Why, can he not see?

 

Will he listen to me?

Listen like

That first time

As I shudder with release

 

Release and trust

That lets him

In

 

And parts me

In ways

That I have never parted before

 

As the careful

Tongue of his words

Probes me

 

And the tickling

Smile of challenge

Wets my lips

With the laughter in his eyes

And in mine

 

I feel thirteen again

And never yet been

Kissed

Behind the bike sheds

 

Will

Will she laugh at me?

 

And pile the scorn

On the acorn

Of this

Whatever this

Is

 

And I know

That she knows

More than me

 

And I know

That she has

Set this up

 

So dare I?

Do I

Take her hand?

For despite the earth of it

That tenderness

It draws

 

It draws something

Out of me

 

It is my soul

And perhaps

That

Is what she needs

….The all of me

 

But will I

Will I have

Have the strength

To take

And to hold

The all of her?

 

For when it is loose

And in my hands

What

….What will I do with it?

 

Can I

Can I really

Have her?

Completely?

Prelude

With the finger paint

Pink and living

Ridges and swirls

Pressing the cello ‘tring

On the belle of life

 

And the cat-gut

Stretch of a feline

Dawn

 

Arching its back

Across the hint

Of attraction

 

And the fluttery-buttery

Eyelash tickle

In the neck’s secret nape

 

And the bowstring quiver

As the belly dances

A teenage tune

 

Of blushes and wants

And messages

Bottled on a rising tide

 

And the careful

Word left unsaid

In case it wasn’t misread

 

But the tint

Of the hint

Is there

 

And can be denied

If the jury case

Was ever

Ever

Tried

 

In the catcher’s glove

Is held the first

Breath of

Love?

 

And the floating tipple

Fairy fly

Now casts its ripple

Upon the frond

Of the summer’s

Mills dream pond

 

And now tugs

Upon the line

And coyly toys

The wings of time

 

And feeds the drying

Skin of doubt

And starts

To let the feelings out

 

And the testing parry

Teases and warms

And probes the depth

Of his charms

 

And the gentle

Gentle praise

Hints that yes

She wants his ways

 

And that single tingle

Trickles down his spine

To make and to take

This woman to be as mine

 

And that first electric touch

That of course

Doesn’t really

Mean that much

 

Breaks the space

For all time

And holds the waist

That feels so… fine

 

And allows the tender dance

To pick the first pizzicato note

And as she shivers too

A quivering quaver is now wrote……