Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay
(200 words)
By candlelight he sits scribbling, trying to capture us in a net of words.
Across the room, in his bed, I wait – naked, ripe and hungry.
Only a poet would ignore me.
He can’t fight our chemistry, but he can’t fit it into his poems either.
Words are truth, flesh is suspect, all the more so when we lose ourselves in each other’s bodies. When I open, when he enters, the words fall away. I know our connection is simple, pure, sublime and sacred, but he doesn’t trust animal desire.
In the beginning were the animals. Then came the names.
The candle gutters.
“Come to bed,” I plead. I know I can make him forget his doubts, at least for a while. I’ve learned to be satisfied with moments of bliss that balance the pain.
“Soon,” he mutters. “Just let me finish this poem.”
2 comments:
Delightful!
Yes, the best lovers are the ones who lose themselves in you--in the moment you're sharing. Trying to put that into words is hard because they're different mediums. But that should be done before or after. When you're together, just feel!
The very best poetry is a feeling in words. Hard to do. Easier to do with music to ease the way into the listener's unconscious. The very best art is also a feeling in images. Some of my tattoos are that to me.
It's actually harder for me to write less words, like you've done here. Easier to write a novel that says the same thing.
This is about a particular lover of mine... We had incredible chemistry, but he was deeply suspicious of sex. Ultimately we broke up. It was just too hard.
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