Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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I want to open you up. I want to be your sun. I want to bring the wet, so just yeild to my tongue. I want to glide into welcome. I want surrender on approach. I want your mouth on mine, my hand gripping your throat. Let’s teach nature new tricks, let’s find new ways to kiss. Let’s breathe into each other and celebrate this tryst. You’ll catch Hell for living, you’ll stare straight in the eye. You’ll hide the good fortune, with a little white lie. The way your neck flushed red, the way your resistance fled. The way your wonder consumed you as we crashed onto your bed. It was the birth of regret, you knew it and said, “No we shouldn’t, my friend,” but it didn’t end. For each pull away, each dodge and fade. For each solemn sway and plead to stay. Was this need to reach, to tutor and teach. To show the affection so ready to breach. “Goddamn it, I love you,” the mind screamed, my hands driven wild on your flesh as I’d dreamed. And your body bent so lovely, so pefect and true. I whispered into your ear, “I’m mad about you.” And that wasn’t enough, it was too little a bud. To grow into something resilient and tough. So the moment was Spring rain on the arid desert land, stray kisses wasted on the back of your hand.


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(at Petals)

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