scarlet.

i am not supposed to write a poem about you
for you
by me
for us

no we
but you and i

i am not supposed to put these words onto a concrete canvas
because we
well...
you and me
make love

in secret

i am not allowed to express these things freely
because we love
in bondage
in seclusion
in my refusal to acknowledge the truth in being

number 2
the other woman

so on my back i face nothing but the ceiling
on my knees i turn my back to true feelings
on my side i lay low from my pride
and succumb to you
unmercifully

i have no name
no face
no permanent place
and as your fingerprints are engraved on my fingertips

everything i touch

is now marked with an S.

my love.

my love is deeper than the bowels of an elephant’s carcass
more vast than the deserts of the sahara
more evident than the existence of man
and more prevalent than a saint’s hands
my love is raw

more raw than the feast of a vulture
more fascinating than the heroes of our culture
because my love is bright

like a shining star
my love outshines the sun and
my love is hot
hotter than the realms of venus
my love

for you that is

cant be exceeded by another because
my love is real.
hidden within the pages of history
i hand you the clues to unfold my love’s mystery
just tell me where to begin

best friend.