When the earth has been snuggled in the arms of the night,
And she turns black, silent and expectant,
Can I blow out the candles?
And let your eyeballs light up the room?
Can I plant fire on your belly and watch your insides melt?
Can I smoke you and leave your beauty in ashes?
Can I leave your body offended?
Soaring to its own blues and back?
Can I twirl your back?
Can I break your spine into cords and keys?
Can I play you?
Turn your body chakras into flute holes?
Kissing is so-so overrated]
I want you. To Yin-yarn your being into mine.
I warned you: loving me is perilous:
I know how to break a heart.
I also know how to make a woman forget her name.
I want you as a rough diamond wants an alchemist.
So brew my morning drool into nectar.
I want you to eat my breath;
Slap my tongue with yours.
Get my ego on steroids; make me a man.
I want you to do me things.
I want your fingertips to explore,
The skin’s deepest secrets.
I want your music to steal silence from the night.
I want your kundalini energy in lotus flare-ups.
I won’t hop on your curves like a horny rabbit,
Thrust hastily, cum, and dress up grinning.
No, allow me to make love to your ambiance and cravings…for hours…allow me to paint your soul purple and leave your heart in quartz pieces so your life can shine in a million ways…allow me to use your nipples as volume nobs, tune you into a static of broken love notes, crackles, sighs, heaves and wails…grow me wings of lust like Himerus, Pothos, Satyr or Dionysus…I mean, for now, call me god and so let my hands mould your ribs into forbidden fruits…cursed is the man who will bite you when I’m gone in the morning…see, there are better things to do in this world of strikes, broken promises, 911, refugees, comets threatening to annihilate the earth…and Al Jazeera news…than making a woman curl her toes.
But again, which war is worse on this earth than the wrath of a woman unloved, untouched, unsexed?