Don't Think

Why question

what feels right?

My heart

seems to accept

even as

My head

rationalizes.

Or does

My head

realize

the sanity of it

While

My heart

rejects the Black

and White

with no Rosy

in-between?

Red

certainly exists.

I think it colours

and clouds all around it.

So viscous

So opaque

that I do not move

do not think

only feel.

I cling

Viciously

to the familiarity

it offers

and that familiarity

breeds comfort.

Still

that cannot be

the complete equation

to my devotion.

There is an answer

Yes

Imbedded deeply

in recesses

I won't revisit.

I cannot

Will not

put voice

or logic to it.

Do not ask

I cannot answer.

I would rather

just be.

SmellTasteTouchAdore.

I imagine the scent in that crease
where your collar meets your bone meets
your throat-- a swelling spice that disregards
your luminous beauty.
I revel in it on me, around me
within me, as my mouth blossoms to
the hollow where shell meets knob meets
smooth, fair column and cool, quivering sinew;
flesh. My tongue unfurls into the fine curve in praise
of your comeliness-- to dip into the essence
of almonds and verbena and crisp ocean-blue linen
the exact hue of your eyes that meet my eyes
as we welcome and spend our body's fury.