jade

the black widow

theflower

resile

bloom

can i bring you to bloom

can i say the things that would make you

can i be your spring

can you be that one singular tree

in the midst of my vast landscape

and still not feel solitary

because you would want me

because you would have me

your spring

waiting to be

engulfing you

every petal 

that is you

your neck

the delicate stem

and fingers

the leaves

would you

play this

me

surrounding you

when the wind blows

with your gentle 

fingers

waving in the wind

play me like your piano

or a flute

play our tune

would you

why 

wouldn't you?

what do i want

do i want 

something 

that is so much

that it cannot 

find a place inside you

somewhere

even if just a little corner

inside you

is fine 

because i intend to

take that small corner

and build a home

and be the spring

surrounding that home

and you'd live inside that home

wouldn't you

it would be like

you living inside me

as i live inside you

and layers of us surrounding us

when the sun rises and when it sets

and when it sets 

the layers

come closer to each other

wrapped warm and tight

and assuringly

looking at us

telling us

it is us

and that they need to

entwine around us

asking us to let them

and i would

would you

why 

wouldn't you?

and a star

a morning star

a beautiful dawn

a divine morning

you are

you already are

but would you let me 

be

something more

something bigger 

than i am

something like

your fragrant spring

you the morning

and me your early spring dew

resting on your petals

and leaves

and stem

and

fill you 

with rapture

why wouldn't you

when you already are

so much

why wouldn't you 

let me

be

even this much

let me 

be

please

do this much

let me be your spring

that makes you bloom

would you

why 

wouldn't you?

linger

fractured weave

i only keep my hand

longer on your face

across your neck

on the small of your back

in hope

that my hands remember this

this feeling

for i have tried before

running my fingers and hand

across my face, closing my eyes

imagining

it is your hand, your fingers

it never feels the same

how does my very own hand

and my very own fingers

betray me so

my very own extensions

mocking my inadequacy

what does your hand have

what do your fingers do 

that is so special

what you hold

what you hold

is a spell

written in lead

i want to be that pencil

that you hold

in your hand

your fingers wrapped around me

with a purpose

leading me

me a pencil

and your fingers, together taut

in a slow tango

across the ballroom of lined paper

or even blank

how does that matter

it does not

not one bit

all that matters

is that we dance

we dance and not stop

right now

right now

i want to rip my clothes off

rip them off

and get on the floor

on my four

arch my back

and stretch my neck

and raise my face

facing you

my moon

my very own special moon

the rising of you

raising an animal

inside me

like a beast

not harmful or vicious

one just led by his instincts

his instincts ruled over

by your scent

the scent of the moon

the scent of the moon

you

i raise my head and howl

i howl

begging you

to fill me up

with your scent

these moonbeams

are paths made by your scent

teasing me

telling me

to follow them

that they would lead me to you

so i follow

i howl and i follow

you are up there

aren't you

looking down

from your celestial box

looking at this man beast

less a man more a beast

every passing minute

not one that is vicious

or malicious

just following

your scent

the scent of the moon

Sway

philtre

truth be told

Elysium

cravings