waterfalls sound prettier in my head. so that’s why i close my eyes and listen as the water folds and divides, demands but never shies.


like a ripple of waves

she comes when i call her. like a ripple of waves, she returns on schedule. a cycle of hate and love, she brushes my cheek with the same hand that slapped me. the crash of waves sting but the tickle of ocean spray reminds me that your ire fluctuates like the faces of the moon.

Poetry, Romantic

The Taste of Lust

I have not tasted the clear, sweet, idle summer day’s waters, nor have I fell asleep in fretless slumber, my lover’s body entertained with mine, our brown, clean lines– bodies smooth and rittled with untampered pores, melding together as one. Despite the barrier of my pink, healthy gums, and straight white teeth, the murky, tasteless… Continue reading The Taste of Lust