| enter -- the guy. at night, our flaws are less visible. I'd never thought much about
the differences -- we talk
about "our day" in the daytime,
in daylight. As if it were an
invitation granted to us by
some Jay Gatsbyesque benevolence
neither human nor god -- just
sort of but not US --
Noblesse Obligerie
"come into the light of day" sharing. All cats are gray in the dark.
There is anonymity, uniformity,
equality in the dark.
There is flesh, and heat,
music, and most of all ourselves;
unaware of the external, wrapped up
in the internal. I love conversations
at night when it is just the two of us,
no light to distract me into the snare
of how beautiful you are -- when your voice
and all the nuances of the sounds we make
paint a clearer picture than I can see
in the sharp glare of light's suffering. I envy the blind. Not the ones who lost
their sight, the ones who never had it --
and so are unaware of being looked at,
and think we all must be intimate and
careful and fully aware of the shapes
of things and hear what is being said;
rather than detoured by a swirl of color,
by the distances in one another's eyes. I could say all that to you, but
what I do say is,
"Talk to me and touch me." The soft chuckle is like a kiss,
your hands like only your hands can be,
and they reshape the form that exists
only for you, sculpting me from
nothingness into our desire.
This is the power you wield.
that I gave you.
Before I knew you existed. How sweet to be a woman for you,
my jewel. A pillow for your head,
my body for your bed,
my heat to feed you,
my need yours to quench
and satiate your own.
my words -- your music
-- our dance.
love you. I hate mornings. © 2.14.05 Jeen Lilly | 
Free Forum Hosting
Important Announcement
