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the gift of bittersweet
what shall I get you, he asked
not really thinking
as they walked the park path.
And she did not pause---
did not even break stride.
"Bittersweet" she said,
"enough to make a wreath".
And he could have gathered it
right then,
at a cost of only his time,
but instead he explained
why it was such a bad idea,
and quite a bit of trouble,
besides what did she know
of making wreathes?
Then he walked calmly
quite pleased to have laid the matter to rest,
but he did not see her face,
did not read her eyes
and never once did he ask himself
why after all those years
all she could think to ask of him
was a gift of bittersweet.
********************************
Lost in a double bed,
the air the smelling of sex and vanilla wax,
I'm searching a wrinkled pillow case
for that one spot that contains
the aroma of your sweat and aftershave.
Inhaling,
I find you mixed in between
the Tide and Downy
and I can sleep soundly
because you're still in my sheets.
what i seek...my last love
who i am...wet yourself with me...and you will still come back hungry for more
what i want...my best friend to come with a lover/husband wrapper around him
what i am not...fake...cold...ungracious
what i love...the feel of a hand against my cheek as tears roll down my face...the force...the power...the trust of being taken...
what i don't want...poly...couples...scat play...
i am more than this profile...i hope to show you that...someday.
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