beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Presence As Signal

My silent understanding

Is not always


But acknowledgement

For I get you

Without explanations

Baby girl

Come close

Because I look

At you and see your hair

Wrapped around my fist

Hear you talk about 

Ordinary things

And imagine

You begging for permission

To stoke the laughing fire

In your belly

Until you burn with it

For I know

And hold dominion

Over the kingdom

Of myself

The dichotomous

Nature of battlefield


Wild church

Come to me,

I shall anoint

You with the musky oils

As subject and object,

Give you the secret identity

You cannot resist


When my presence

Serves as signal


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