| Sunlight floods in with force through my window frame. I turn my head slowly, still asleep wishing to feel the naked swell of his wanting before I wake. Knowing, he takes me into an embrace, dissolving me entirely in his heat. I miss this sweet release. It exists perpendicular now, only in dreams. I awake in Brazil after dreaming this, his tears and agony. He speaks to me when I sleep. Expressing his hurt and anger, and regret. What can I do, but plead for mercy? I cannot draw near, my anguish each time grows with intensity. The skin of me, she bears so many nerves visible and already trembling. I need to be held in God's arms, not Man's. Man, with the wetness and heat being a moment's cure. Entering me with carelessness. Exhaust with fumes of debauched regret. Behold, I have descended in this cold country. And there is no embrace I can turn to, visceral against my skin. I weep for God to enter me. Inside my heart, and curse myself for being this way. A trembling nerve that feels too intensely, this human condition. Each impact, though illusion... still devastating in my experience of our emotion's sphere. I have made an art out of misery. Written in pros. When was sadness ever sensual? What makes it so addicting... In song, in prayer and in sex the longing and vulnerability, the slow, rhythmic beat of our release. Making love this way was always bittersweet. |
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Categories
All
Archives
July 2022
|