When we made love that first time
In my single bed with
Flowered sheets and awful green curtains
And Hershey kisses pinned to the headboard
Your arms secured around my waist
And the curves of your hips implanted
Into the shallow graves of my own
You became my soul and heart’s asylum
As you pinned your body to mine
With Cupid's pins and tacks from the
Drawing board.
Slipping into the abyss of No Man’s Land
Upon the floor that night, with your shadow
Casting light upon my face and your shoulders
Swirling their calligraphy and love spell
Under the heavy lidded lashes of my eyes
I allowed a smile to escape from within
As you claimed me as your own
A core which had been void of emotion and
Derelict and filled with nothing but
Black balloons and dust bunnies.
That night Buddha came to me in his orange robes
As I found Enlightenment glistening wet under the Bodhi tree
With philosophy and codes coiled tight upon a tongue
-a foreign language which my heart had yet to utter-
But when it exhaled its first breath and came gasping
Orgasmically into the world, garbed in red russets
Black silken cases and eyes that changed their hue
From mirrors of my own to varying shades of blue
It raised its head and rightfully called itself
Love.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poetry"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
