Litkicks Message Board Archive

nos es a hora

Posted to Action Poetry




well, how'd you know primo

sittin on my ikea coffe table, made of slender sierras caught in time to dehydrate the essence of filters, i watch you smoke your little pack of reds, nymph exhaling excess smoke caught in your throat, while your lips pucker, in a sensual fashion worn on my flesh, to help with expulsions, your hands, hands of calloused satin that massaged my neck in my neediness, to relax the tensions daily tight rope acts, i saw the sky melt on our flesh and blanket us from the moon, hiding yourself in the recesses where no one plays, let me pool in the depths around your ankles like mist to moisturize the flesh and revitalize the senses portrayed behind frosted mirrors that no one can see, to recognize the face full of tender mass, let me paint the tattoos on your back the creases into my mind forever trapped like a caged bird, heart trembling to feel the skin i craved at a bar one night, i hear you laugh about whatever, with your own humourous ways, your smile white and bright with phlouride helping bristles, eyes blazing with glitter polish over them, how happy you look when your raven black hair is pulled back in ratty bandanas to frame the face that speaks to my underclothes, in moist moments, i want to hold against my heart and feel throbbing there, i remember your alcohol breath mixing with mine, touching me invisibly as we collapse into cotton warmth of martha stewart living, window open to cool night, naked in the darkness, illuminated by starlight to whitten our bodies as me kiss, your mind dwelling somewhere else, with someone else, i knew this, predetermined situations outlined to minute details, folly of the species, wishing upon those night lights to that one day you will grow out of sorrow that is self aquired to see me there, more than those previous, not a closed rose, or a liqour shot turned violent, no bird flown into clouds, eggs craked on the counter, nail under foot, you es tu, tu es yo, remember the moment, as i see your tattered jeans, over priced but worth the fit on your hips, with flesh exposures, faded blues, essences of you, marking me inside to birth one day, with hints of your eyes and aura, so beautiful, i never regretted saying "i love you"