Love Is…

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(Editor’s Note: It’s collaboration time, again.  This time, I was the one whose services were enlisted.  The lovely and witty GiGi Chanel sought meout because she had a poem on her heart based on a conversation we recently had.  As usual, my words are in bold.)

Love is a passionate adventure, sweeping through emotional obstructions.
Love is warm hands on cold flesh. Melting away frigidity of uncertainty.

Love is a contest of adoration and worship; wrestled in the neighborhood adjacent to recession.
Love is the fight between heart beats and synapses over who is causing the most nerves to tingle.

Love is a hopeless rebellious insurgent; revolting against an ordinary existence.
Love is the storm and its eye. It calmly watches the beautiful turbulence it causes.

Love is absurd, selecting crowded visions of fairytale endings.
Love is the heavy dosage of irrationality that numbs the sickness of reality.

Love is an accompaniment to a full life. Colors are bright, music is crisp, and food is savory.
Love is colorless, colorful, transparent, and opaque.
Perfectly honest and gorgeous in its mistakes.

Love is grand, enormous and imposing, the giant in the room that doesn’t fit in a standard size chair.
Love is adoring the Universe, in all its majesty, star by star.

Love is driven, full of confidence, confronting fear wielding the mighty sword of compassion.
Love is pride regaining its balance and kindness after strength training.

Love is senseless substance. I am certain I do not know what love is.
And that is the best thing about love.

Abstract With Ayana

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(Editor’s Note: For this piece, I enlisted the help of Ayana aka Poetic Heroin. All we did was go back and forth with whatever we were inspired with. This is the result.)

Remnants of you fragrance my face
Scented conversations below your waist.
Lips under my navel whisper about how good you taste
The pleasure crawls up my spine and lays across my face

Tingles chased by searching palms.
Traveling new paths to a familiar destination

The high our bodies is chasing only comes down when we spill.
Fina & Till
Signatures inked across hips to seal the deal.

Love vibrates while the ink is still wet,
Our breathing indicates we aren’t finished yet
Drawing with frequency, colored moans and words.
We paint art that can be heard.

Abstract lust, rare visuals. Skin happily covered in sticky residuals

Keeping us glued to the canvas to continue the ritual.
Bow before my temple.
Let’s worship the deity that brought us together

Together we’ll pray, push, & pull.
Arrive to a joyous gallery, for admirers to see.
A display of intensity
Starring you & me.

Playing Your Game, Baby (Part 2)

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(Editor’s Note: Harlo Haven and I had so much chemistry making Part 1, that the idea overflowed into a second part.)

You start. You stop.
You know what you’ve got and what I need.
When you give it up,
It keeps from being free…

Sequence of sex slows time to a crawl
And allows erogenous dew to lay soft against the skin.
Take it all in.
Remember my eyes finding your smile in the dusk that alights thru a single window.

Here, it is only you and I.
A promise I gave you until the last day of my life.
So why is it you mistake a passionate serum for poison
And leave notes by the door
About how you can’t do this anymore?

Are you too weak to survive your mistakes?
Shall I liken you to a phantom who threatens and adores?
Will you allow me to make a meal of the vulnerability at your core?
Or will you stand with me and be my partner like any man would?
Stop trying to find the flaw in an imperfection
-laden bliss.
Love is for the faithful,
And we are better than this.

The hand is quicker than the eye
My hand feels the slickness dripping down your thighs.
You’re leaking
What I hope is the first sign of your love without condition.
That’s why I knock so hard when I’m inside:
I’m trying to tear down two sets of walls.

It’s tough to be the solution after being the cause.
My problem-solving methods are not as effective.
Yet, you convince me that all is corrected
But conceal the truth that we’re still flawed.

Kiss me.
Whisper another chant of how much we mean to each other
Using what we were as, “Abracadabra.”
But your lovely assistant, Hope, is a cadaver
You knew all along this was a front.
As long as I believed it was alive
You could do whatever you want.

An enchanting magician and card trick expert.
Playing hearts for fun.
But your illusion is ruined
Once I know how it’s done.

Playing Your Game, Baby (Part 1)

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(Editor’s Note: For this piece, I requested the help of the lovely Harlo Haven. She’s a poet out on the west coast, and a wonderful writer. This is what we came up with. Her words are in bold.)

You touch me, baby.
Using my love to keep me high.
When you give it up,
It’s only enough to get me by…

The night will begin tangled in white satin..
Touch will redefine itself with heavy heartbeats pumping blood into loose ends..
With tight grips.
Sit down and do not speak until everything has been said..
Still your anxious tread
And understand that even though I love you I will not become addicted to this simple type of sadness
Like a tinkerer locked away inside the labyrinth of his madness..
Yes, I love you..and because I do
I won’t allow you to burn this bridge.
So put your lips to my heart and believe in what we have been.

When I drink you in,
Love has an aftertaste.
It’s too bittersweet for my system.
Medicine with a hint of venom
I hallucenate. Something is off
When I take satisfying gulps, you’re always in them.
And when the elixir makes me cough, you’re always in it.
Delicious.
Yuck.
I need to have another cup.
No.
I’ve had enough of us.
Satin in your hips.
Your kisses whisper magic
Then you disappear
And I never know what happened.
Yes, I love you.
I know I do.
Since you know it, too,
You’ve made a web of my veins.
Tangling it as you choose.
So I’ll kiss where my existence is futile
And accept the fact I will lose.

You’re playing a game.
It’s so plain
There’s no way I can win.
But I’m willing to play
Whatever you say
Because I don’t want this love to end.