You say you love my mind the sensuality of all I say how you long to craft a reply answer all the longing I’ve raised You lie awake wondering of my words ‘A glimpse is not enough’ you say ‘I want conversation deep I want to memorise your soul’
Still I shiver for that burning connection a longing less-refined can’t you boil for an inch of this can’t you itch for my lips to be held in these thin arms again You’d sweat and burn at night for our next physical encounter
Your fingernails should mark my skin There should be bruises left like sonnets In the meteor impact of our collision You’ll see the spark of my soul there As I shiver up inside you
You bite your lip as I show my strength and repeat until we melt into one Forget the reading, forget the speaking bite my shoulder prolong this feeling Away with words Cut this talk let me at you
Away with words, fuck these sentences I want silences split with kisses Sucking sounds and bitten skin Trade intellectual for the sexual As we do those things we do So, away with words Cut the talk let me at you
Thanks for reading this old poem.
I’d posted an extract from this one on Twitter last week and people seemed keen. This is actually part of a much longer poem but I’ve robbed all the best lines from it for other poems over the years. These are the remaining (previously unshared) parts.
So quickly, it’s night again the days are short in times such as these The sun only stays so long only lays its light down for so long then it goes again we’re plunged into night
O, could you not find a torch or a candle or a lantern to bring some light in here We can’t see any hope swimming in this darkness
So soon, it’s night again we’re on the same street corner I’m selling your body again I’m selling my brain it gets so dark round here I almost forget about the light there is some light, sometimes but right now it’s night…
The heat shifts between rooms from the front of the house, to the back on the bed, your curled form is laid I watch the sky as it cries in the street blowing my nose, counting the people they carry bags of food to their cars filled with treats and sweet desserts As I move to the kitchen, you stir for a second this day is turning dark in the light from the loft shadows dance, from the candles you lit
By the stove, I pause to warm my hands not sure what to do, I don’t want to wake you I sit back at the window, take up my book but there are no new words to read and I place it back if only the story would change of it’s own accord O, I think it’s time for some movement a raising of the silence, let the music in just some small tune to warm this room and your sweet progression of chords kissing my ears I lie down beside you, cup your face whisper some sickly greeting as you focus up on me
Come on love, we should make a song you are the music and I am the words you are the music and I am the words we should make a song, my love we should make a song you are the music and I am the words you are the prettiest music and I am the most grateful words…