maybe it is time for me to finish this...



i should probably working and stop writing poetry...





i inhale your exhales filling me with air so sweet
rather than keeping it in and place it under lock and key
i release it into cotton candy ballads
hopefully to envelop you into a rapture of psalms

my flow carresses you where no finger tips can convey
my gazes inspire you in which no words can say

and though we exchange these games of teasings and breathings
i flip thru the WORD from deuteronomy to ephesians
hoping to find any type of redeeming light
because it is getting harder and harder to be that good little girl
while you are just five goosebumps away
and at a three smile distance

and i find myself yearning with mental joustings
tagged with exclamation marks

and i find myself wanting to collect your days
place it in a leather pouch
put it on my shelf
and then saving it for later

and i found myself waiting for whispers down back
uses kisses as periods

and i find myself wanting to feel the sunrise
heating dew drops between caramel thighs
as i relay you thru giggles and sighs
my interpretation of god's painted earth

but see, to articulate the art of noise
would already have been too late
for my head already had shouted bouts of doubts
therefore quieting any singing in my head
or qwelling throbbing by things other than my heart


( too be continued...)