Call me reckless, call me hopeless, say it to me, implore. Call me feckless, call me helpless, call me all those things and more. All I ask if that you heed the one good reason you’re ignored. Judge me all you like, its not you I do this for.
How are you yet to learn? I don’t want grand gestures. I don’t want the world on a plate, the best life has to offer, material things or flashy gimmicks. I just want you with me.
Champagne on our lips and desire on our minds and you can leave those painful memories behind and you can bring your hand to my heart as we kiss. There’s nothing else but us on nights like this.
I strip. In low light. In the silence of my room. I strip like an act of confession. Unclothing my meticulous mind and teasing language from the vestry of my soul.
Welcome to the heart of me, the purest, uncut parts of me. These inmost fragments that you see, from pain and passion came to be, in blemished, unclothed intimacy, existing here as poetry.
Burnt mirror, smeared glass. Do you like what you see? If my body is a temple, then my poetry is the darkest vestry. My mouth is a chalice, and these words are sacramental.
