passion

I beg you for nothing

Ask of you nothing
I just stand there
and stare you
up and down.

My lips say nothing
but the slight grin they play
Says everything.
You wash your hands
and you keep looking
back at me.

But I don't move,
Only my eyes glide up and down.
Your dirty white socks,
baggy blue jeans
Your t-shirt,
as it hangs so
loosely off your shoulders
so gently
over your waistline.

As you turn
Look back at me
Your curls bounce around and
Reveal your eye
Into mine and
I grin.

I ask of you nothing
but my eyes how they
Beg for you.
I turn and walk
on down the hall and
You,
you follow.

To the bathroom,
I,
I brush my teeth and
you stand,
over the toilet.
a little uneasy but
you do it anyway,
I see your fingers move
and hear your zipper buzz.

In the mirror,
I brush hard
In the reflection,
I see you
and you glare into my eyes.

I try not to ask for much
and normally thats fine

You zip up and
drop your jaw
just a little
and gaze me through the mirror.

I spit out and
flip up my hair
just enough,
and you grab me at the hips.

But now you don't care.
You don't want me to ask
Beg for it
You say,
beg for it.

You grab me by the heart and
I grab you by the belt.

Fresh

Here I sit,
Room fresh full of flowers,
and the day just before dusk.
I gaze out my window in wonder.
How can a day so dated
hold such a prodigious amount of pigment?
The sun is out of sight,
But its’ light lingers within the trees

Here I ponder,
Among the flowers and their faces,
and their violet glass vases.
From one stem they slither,
And up the trunk they travel,
‘till up at the top, they unravel.
This is where there splendor gets me,
As my eyes follow the stem up’t the flower


They open up,
with their hands to the heavens,
and their eyes to the skies.
They reach ever so gently,
Yet with such a structure, that
their enthusiasm is inevitable.

And I still sit,
Baffled by their beauty,
speculating why I sat here to begin with.
What sufficiency it has caused me,
this moment of study.
My time not corrupted,
Only my mind,
freed.