Member-only story
Desperate Search for Love
A Poem
The way you distribute your love to me, dear Asha, is never harsh, although we do make a thunderous crash when our bodies glide together.
You think it great sport — all the men you give your special favors to, the whole troupe who come by and get toasted and then give you shared visions of bliss.
I open a window for ventilation, but the aroma of your sensuous nights is not reversible.
A co-worker of mine said I was a captive — meaning my soul did not belong to me — and that would explain the restlessness, why I sometimes sleep on your carpet rather than go home.
I consider it a challenge though, and I know my friend means well with his jibe at my character.
I wouldn’t call it painless, this knowing you, but I’ll even get on a ladder to reach up to your height.
You’ve got one long talon in your tongue, my love, and that’s not conjecture, that’s the truth.
You have the luxury of having so many lovers, and as much as I would like to quell that urge, I would even tolerate a long-distance relationship, hide out in the exterior of your heart.
My mirror is a refractor and is of absolutely no benefit, I do not wish to see inside me like I would attempt to understand the crescent moon.
