November 30, 2010
You've Left Me Doting
You are the perfect antidote to feeling sorry for myself. You came out of no where so unexpectedly and melted the chill in the crisp afternoon air. I quickly lost myself in your lips and manly aroma, and as we burned in your sheets I closed my eyes and dreamt of architecture. Now that I'm left drowning in what's left of the melodies of our always too brief encounters, something between a sneeze and tears pushes at my sinuses and leaves me smiling. These sweet verses have made me slow down a bit, climb this hill a little slower and daydream of you, only to reach the summit and be reminded that I had vowed to harden this shell. So I speed down the back side of the mountain a little nauseous, with salt water specks hanging from my lower lashes. It would seem that whatever seed it is you planted long ago has sprung open and filled this translucent hard candy shell with wildflowers that bend and twist towards the sunlight of your smile. The weight of the workweek pushes on my mind while fond bruises weigh on my hips, similarly to your bruised ribs that left you writhing in pain rather than passion. I'm pulling for another meeting, vowing not to let you in but chasing you through thirsty dreams. While you may have been the perfect antidote I don't believe you have the want or availability to quench my thirst for you. So I'll imbibe something else, something water, something tea and leave these obsessions for another opportunity to let my crazy show behind rose colored glasses while you unnervingly impose by holding, by wrapping our hands in your sweatshirt to trip down city streets and insist on kissing me at each turn.