Small hours

Quiet long inhale
Forceful small irregular exhale
The heat of breath against skin
In the small hours
Twitching fingers
Hands, thighs, everything,
Heavy with ease
Unencumbered by appearances
I am awake
You are asleep
Still
Not to wake you
Drink in this touch
When you did not set out to.

Amarepoeta

Teach me

Teach me to cry,
to let my tears flow,
to let go.

Teach me to speak,
I’m hoarse from silencing,
I am tired of hiding.

Teach me to touch,
without an agenda,
for the sake of wonder.

Teach me to be naked,
to be lathered in oil,
and not recoil.

Teach me to want,
to give it a try,
before its time to die,

Teach me to be,
there is far too much doing,
barely any being.

Teach me to care,
enough to learn,
enough to forget.

Amarepoeta

Clean

Working from right to left
Unsullied by difficulty
Draining defilement
Unfailingly mindful

Bathed by fountains of sand or water
Ablutions completed wasting nothing
Purified ritually
Thoroughly cleansed
Illuminated white upon my head and feet
Zealously forward towards those doors
Ensured to freely partake

Amarepoeta

Good girl

I have but one goal,
Follow your lead,
To do as I’m told,
To sit silently and wait,
Or writhe wildly and call.
I promise I’ll be a good girl.

Please don’t deny me,
I’ll be a picture of discipline,
The training is never truly complete,
Appropriately presenting,
The scene is set.
I want to be a good girl.

With eyes closed,
Lips parted,
I’ll follow the growl beneath your orders,
Safe and secured
I’ll be bound here, afloat here.
Make me a good girl.

Open for you,
Arched to you,
After the glistening drop,
I will care for you,
You will care for me.
And I will be a good girl.

When life calls us back,
To obligatory necessities,
Call me at a random time.
Absently regarding these marks,
Trembling and unsettled.
Tell me I am a good girl.

Amarepoeta

Listen

Listen without cause,
Without pause,
I invite you to listen.

Listen to that breath catch,
Don’t watch,
Let yourself, listen.

Listen to what I’m not saying,
No replaying,
What I am saying is, listen.

Listen with intent out there,
In here,
Where the waves meet, listen.

Listen to the token,
Noise broken,
Outside your ears, listen.

Listen unshielded,
Secrets folded,
When you can’t, listen.

Amarepoeta

If that makes sense…


Feel free to not make sense!
Intentionally.
Actively.
Specifically.
Feel free to not make sense.

Allow the sensation to speak into you…
Loudly.
Subtly.
Repeatedly.
Allow the sensation to speak into you.

Move and be moved beyond what is sensible…
Inconveniently.
Powerfully.
Honestly.
Move and be moved beyond what is sensible.

Provoke these sanitized sensibilities…
Softly.
Eagerly.
Completely.
Provoke these sanitized sensibilities.

If that makes sense…

Amarepoeta

To the poem I never wrote…

Hi,
I miss you.
I know that may mean nothing to you now, but like much of our relationship, this is about me and not you.

Are you well?
I know you are. I see you everywhere.
I look for you everywhere.
Sometimes when I’m mindlessly scrolling, there you are.

I don’t want to bother you.
I know that I can only remind you, of what we had. The real truth is that I want what we almost had, romantic speak for what we never had but you somehow found.

Do you remember?
I know you don’t want to, but you must. So that in nostalgia, I can make you hurt, if but a fraction of how I feel. This is easier than accepting responsibility and leave you well enough alone to live your best life.

Think of me.
I know you won’t but I hope I have convinced you enough to haunt you. Your life is amazing now, and if I cross your mind then maybe I can have a sliver of that amazingness.

You were right.
I know that now. Only in so far as saying that will validate you. And allow me to use it as a crutch should you come back. And I revert to default.

I was not ready for you.
I know that I was ready get you but not for the responsibility and the vulnerability it would take to stay with you. You are right to move on.

I’m sorry.
I know you. I know me. You have made it so I can write again. Not the way I wrote you. In the way that poem chooses to be written.

The Doppelganger.

Askew

My Carpet is askew!
How long it has been that way?
I go to that room everyday.
Has it always been this way?
Has it been slowly shifting?
Big enough to make a change,
Yet slow enough to go unnoticed.

My carpet is askew…
Not everyones carpets are perfectly placed.
I’m the only one who’s noticed.
For now I can keep it that way.
No one will notice,
If they do, It is not a big deal, lol.
If they do, I’ll be seen.

My carpet is askew.
It needs a wash,
On a week when the water is cut off,
It is too cold to air outside.
So I have a carpet, which is nice.
And It is dirty,
I can’t do anything right now.

My carpet is askew,
I closed the door,
It’s sunny outside,
A good day for a walk.
Just smile and wave,
So no one will know,
My carpet is askew and dirtier now.

The Doppelgänger

Mistress

Come to me, Mistress.
I am desperate.
To hell with composure,
There is no place for pride,
Speak to me again,
Hidden In plain sight.
I will share your words.
Please, come to me.

Come to me, Mistress.
Like you used to,
In the dead of night,
When I am naked,
Before the sunrise,
I will experience your ministrations,
As one consumed in spiritual ecstasy.
Please, Come to me.

Come to me, Mistress.
As a heady release of dew at sunrise,
My eyes will not close in pleasure,
My eyes will open in wonder,
My head will roll back,
And I will know truth,
I will know you.
Please, come to me.

Come to me, Mistress.
When there is no one home,
In the small afternoon hours
When the sun bathes us,
The wind dries us,
We will sit in the shade of an extravagant secret,
Bereft of the world and wealthy in hedonistic exploits,
Please, come to me

Come to me, Mistress
You are not my everything,
You are not my only,
You are not mine,
I shall not claim you. Again.
Give me the certainty in your arms embrace
The freedom of your body. Again.
Please, come to me

Amarepoeta

Somebody Lied

Somebody said there are good people,
that there are bad people,
that you are either one or the other,
To ignore your capacity for evil is as obtuse as blinding yourself to the heights to which you can soar.
Somebody lied!

Somebody said there is a heaven and a hell,
Everyone gets to decide who goes where,
Everyone but you!
Why do we value the discipline from threats of ramifications over the power of accountability?
Somebody lied!

Somebody said they have the solution,
In 3 simple steps you can be rid of your troubles,
All for the low low price of X amount
We are solving out inside issues with your outside money!
Somebody lied!

Somebody said we are different,
That there are types of people,
Those to be embraced and those not.
The greatest deception is that we are separate.
Somebody lied!

A lie is an assertion that is believed to be false.
A lie is typically used with the purpose of deceiving someone.
The practice of telling lies is lying.
A person who lies is a liar.
Somebody lied.

The Doppelganger