I want to show her what I’m made of because I am attracted to her mettle.
Her brain knocks me out as her curves leave me in a mess of confusion and desire.
We’re on complete opposite sides of the political fence.
In fact I couldn’t agree with her less and yet that’s in part where the attraction lies because I could never be with someone who completely agrees with me or I with them, where’s the fun in that?
I yearn for some honest to God realism in this land of make believe.
Tired of nodding out because the subtext always silences my daydreams.
I need someone who doesn’t let me get away with anything, but also gives me the benefit of the doubt especially when we’re in the trenches and bullets are flying above our heads.
I so badly want to cuddle with Lyn amid her political writing and my poetic streams of consciousness.
I want to wake her up with sonnets praising her beauty and sharp, undoubting intellect.
We start here with two cups of coffee and all the time in the world to get to know one another because we owe ourselves at least that much as our world goes to hell and we best stop pointing fingers at everyone else and start to look within.
Break up the silence
And leave it in a puddle
On the floor
That’s what she does
When she expresses her opinion
Through consonants and vowels
And we’re the better for it
Even if we don’t know it
Because dissenting opinions
Are what keep us free and on our toes
And we’re both writers
And we’re both annoying
And if you don’t like it
I desire to see her naked
Just her conservatism on full display
As my liberal tendencies crash and burn
Inside of her
Break through the silence
Lap it up like mother’s milk
And never forget none of us are
Truly orphans if we believe in
Breaking through to the other side
Metaphor versus the creativity of unfiltered thought
What’s the bloody difference?
I don’t fucking know
Do I use poetry to hit on women?
Does a bear shit in the woods?
None of this is important though because I write what I feel and I feel what I write
There are no ulterior motives and there are no super weapons and the pen is always mightier than the sword
Metaphor versus the creativity of unabashed brilliance
And when I wrote that I desired to see you naked it’s true, but naked in multiple ways because fashion isn’t only about the clothes and just because someone shows me their birthday suit doesn’t mean I’ve really seen them in the buff
And I know I’m a pushy son of a bitch
I hear it all the time between the inhaling of another deep breath, but the very last thing I want to do is provoke you to block me because I’ve known you were the real thing from the first time I saw you bring down the hammer on someone with the unpampered grace of a fierce swan
Metaphor versus the constancy of one last passionate kiss before we bid sweet adieu
And when I said you were out of my league I was stupidly basing it on what stares back at me when I stare into the mirror and the mirror closes its eyes for good
I usually write in threes because my OCD doesn’t believe in doing things half assed and there is something about you Lyn that keeps me coming back to the well even though I know there’s no more water to be drunk or thoughts to be thunk