Member-only story
All the Desire in the World
A Poem
My mind is closed, dear Asha, to any other idea but you. You could tie me to a tree and I’ll never waiver, even if you were to forge some painful death for me for being so devote.
In school I had the best intention, to study hard and do well, but it never was as important as getting to know the female form, just so, I imagine, I can love you rightly.
Let me clarify: I don’t own a weapon, unless you count my heart, the organ in which there is the most at stake.
Sure, you get to abuse it sometimes by making me so jealous, your house and your bed open to all those other men. But I won’t budge on my desire, my longing for your long legs.
You could try warning me, tell me that I shouldn’t fall for such a knavish heart, but I consider each step toward you an instruction on how to keep you in my bed.
It’s pretty basic, this lust, and for that I can afford to abandon all rhetoric.
And so I’ll climb that proverbial mountain, with or without the flu, one half of my mind on humanity and the other half on your sexy parts.
My conscience is clear: I keep kinship with the snail, always working slowly toward my singular yearning.
