sex
Aureolin Blooms
Florida showers leave the sun to hang hopeful in the sky.
Even under the safety of the umbrella it left
its reflection to bloom aureolin under your fingers
at the first drops of rain —
like when the artists had spread their paint across the watercolors
hanging inside the café,
bright splashes of hope to contrast the blues. Across the table
you uncross your legs, open
like the orchids flourishing on the windowsill,
lounging in the humidity
while it collects in your hair and trickles down your neck
like the most bewitching of poetry.
The Couch
There is a couch
In a room.
In a house.
On a street.
In a city.
In a state.
In a country.
That in this moment,
as I straddle you,
is my whole world.
Summer
She lingered over her martini, an olive
floating gracefully in the gin,
vermouth and humor sitting dry on her tongue.
The summer evening slowly inched itself across the tablecloth
until the light from the candle at the center
hindered its crusade to bring on the dark.
I ran my hand over the flame, letting it lick the dent of my palm,
inching it further down until
the quick pain reminded me of that first pinprick of love
the night we met. Do you remember
the earthy smell of the apples slowly rotting under the leaves?
The world altering itself beneath our feet?
There was a sense of urgency back then, a need
for hastened fingertips and my lips to always be pressed to yours,
skin rubbed in raw emotion until it burned like kindling
in the night. Your eyes were golden
under the lanterns, your hands pale birds
swooping over your plate.
In that moment my skin burned for the ocean
of your curls across my hips,
the charm on your necklace to brush against my thigh,
the warmth of summer waves to pulse beneath my skin.
cause I don't wanna be your friend
touch my heart when you miss me.
give me one more word.
one word that can compete with every letter
I’ve ever thought about writing to you.
what is sleep anyway?
besides time passing in a place we can’t be seen
balconies, fingertips,
things we shouldn’t be doing.
what is sleep anyway?
cause I don’t wanna be your friend
you can tell me something’s wrong
but I don’t know wrong from right
just that the timing of my heartbeat
gave me away
and now I can’t tell time
without your hand on my wrist
your taste in my mouth
let me love you like I have always wanted to love the world
let me write for you like I can’t think about anything else
let me be here and not have to keep wondering what it’s like
what is sleep anyway?
besides time passing in a place we can’t be seen
long drives, longer sunsets,
forevers we can’t define.
what is sleep anyway?
just the cover of darkness for
things we shouldn’t be doing.
what is sleep anyway?
cause I don’t wanna be your friend
How, And Why?
It's been a while since I've seen you, been a while since I've heard from you.
Your face is the one thing I can still see, and your voice is the one thing I can still hear.
Mentally, I saw you walking, but you passed me, and didn't notice I was there.
I tried to call out to you, but you didn't hear me.
Once, I thought I loved you, everyone else seemed to think I did too.
But all I felt went away very quickly, like I knew it would.
When I met you, I was happy, we talked almost always, and it was great having someone to talk to.
You were there, when he wasn't.
I appreciate and love you for that.
I've tried to picture what it would be like if I was with you, what it would be like if I was yours instead of his.
Would I be happier? Would I experience what I'm not right now?
So many questions, and so many answers which I haven't found.
Everytime I am alone, I feel some sort of sadness, some sort of emptyness.
Not that it completely has to do with you or him, but I think more to do with the loneliness I've been living with.
Making myself believe things could be different every time I find someone new.
But, you know how it goes, and how its gone for me.
How to walk away from something seems easy, but sometimes, people struggle even when they know they have to let go.
Being with someone new is something I almost don't want to do again.
I don't want to tell anyone else stories of my past, and how I once was.
I don't want to do things and not keep it to myself.
I've always been a quiet and reserved girl, I've always been you could say, overly careful about who I allow to touch me.
Doing things with him, I grew comfortable with, and something I became okay with.
Doing things with you, I've questioned, and thought of, something I would've had to grow comfortable and okay with.
Could I ever do things with you, can I see myself doing things with you, and would I ever see and hear you again........but this time, for real?
I look at how other girls live their lives, and sometimes think of how they handle being physical.
How do they allow themselves to give their all to one guy, and then another after some time has passed?
is there never any regret? Is there never any fear and doubt?
Where does the trust comfort and idea of being okay with it come from?
If things go wrong, how are they able to allow themselves to do it again, and with someone else who isn't meant to be their someone?
And off the topic I wonder, how was someone like you, able to seemingly fall for me?
I am a damaged broken record you see.
What is there to possibly like about me, how can one like me, and why?
Even after trying to be with someone for 5 years, I still don't know why he chose me........but then there's you.
Why did you pick me? why havent you given up? Why do you still wish to have me?
What is there, aside from the reason to do with my body, to like about a woman like me?
TODAY’S WOMAN
Today’s woman is not a woman.
She’s a man
Who steps across my threshold by lure:
Who beguiles me into servile reticence
With the subtlety
Of a bloodless coup d’état.
She’s not like mama
Who bows with snow-white hair
To scrub the kitchen floor,
Who knows the right place
For the kettle and the pan
After each and every use,
Who still understands
The language of the suckling
That clutches up
At hay-dry breasts,
In whose charms and grace
Father still basks blessedly,
Whose gentle love
Gets the lion to crawl,
Whose kindness
We and the world trumpet
Upon mountain tops.
Today’s woman is not a woman.
She’s a man
Who hides granite balls
Under furry hide,
Who is more erudite than me,
And has become wiser also.
No wonder
She no longer
Stirs my balls,
Neither my brains.
But how could she?
She’s a man
Who does not cry tears
That melt the heart.
She’s a man
Full of bones and nerves.
FREE ORGIES
FREE ORGIES
Baby nothing is emblematic about you,
Break my bones and my heart,
Shatter like blooded mirrors,
Pieces of memoirs,
Sweet bombshells!
But we not different you and me,
Pornography sound like phonography!
Tattooed in my crown,
All those orgies,
Today finally free!
Silk sheets over my cold flesh,
69 is the number of the hotel room,
Just call me and I shall please you!
Don’t forget the cash,
Nothing is free, baby!
They shall fail to recall about me soon,
So jiggle me to the sky,
Sundrenched, the stars in my eyes,
And the rain runs over my cheeks!
Nothing more nothing less!
Soon I should falls to amnesia,
To emptiness where I belongs,
Nothing was ever there,
Tables has turned,
Hope fades away….
@2014.H.NAUDET.MARGOT
Sexual Thoughts [Sexual Fiverse: Poem of Five Lines]
Sexual
Utterly sensual
Thoughts of you
I have in mind
By thinking, you I find
Sex And The Water( Taste )
Smooth heat rubbed against my lips.
I went close to fetch a kiss and swallowed sips
Drawn from a tongue; fruit, bitten subtly,slow
Because I know I may hurt hers, mine also:
The same I feel is what there maybe is felt too.
Here now, we've came, than frowning me and you
Are holding tight behind our horse's neck
Riding through days and night's weave of starful black
There but I brighten night with all a sunny day;
Death to the lazy and to thee; her chastish ways!
And sky, its whispers blow the cool and quietest,
Fall from cloud rainless while it pours on thee, the first,
Woman of choice of heart struck loudest where it lives
It touches most; it brings the hand, a hand that gives!