this poem probably isn't about you

I realized a long time ago that you were the best man I would ever find.
your so lovely.
your so lovely.
I use the possessive because it isn't mine.

You know, ten thousand women better than I am would jump at the chance
So I keep trying
Because it's me you choose over and over.

Trust and believe those thoughts are there.
You and me babe, crying with laughter while we turn to wrinkles and ash.
Though I do think you're so funny.
and kind.
and beautiful.
and the best choice around by a mile.
I realized recently that I don't think of you at five a.m.when I'm at my most poetic.

I have always loved with words the only thing I don't ruin the only thing that lasts
for me
So if I don't have any words for you what does that mean?

And it isn't your fault that your edges are too rough for my tastes
That I never cared to learn your bodily mechanisms
I often wish I didn't need the softness and familiarity of bodies that work like mine.

Maybe you just like me because I'm the farthest thing from what you can keep forever.

The Lady and the Leopard

Thoughts run along the front of my teeth with the tip of my tongue.
The tender hollow where your pulse beats
Below the hollow well of a missing adams apple.
slightly
slowly
Just enough to notice.
Pieces of you drag along my scalp with the blades of my too pale fingertips.
The body made for straining and sweat
Every hard and gentle angle of your protracted frame
So incredibly
And uncompromisingly
Sexual to me.
Our hips would fit together
Like sharp pieces of the same puzzle.
Let that eloquent tongue fall lazily
Tracing the curves of my flesh.
Darling
Let these fingernails carve the evidence
Into your leopard parchment back.
Press hard against me
Grind and move until the world is ruined around us.
After all, you still stutter when we speak.