destiny...he said...she said...(eavesdropping on the beginning of a love affair)
Where have you come from? From the ether
or from the mist that flows from the morning shore?
(My heart has searched for you…how many worlds did I traverse to find you…I don’t presently have the capacity to know this).
I don’t even know what you were fishing with that day (as you stood on the bridge between reality and fantasy), whether your hook was baited with dreams or prayers… but as you cast your line into the ocean of our existence it fell upon my ear with a plop, echoing my name. “Self”, you called, with a fervency not to be denied… and from that solitary act I felt the self of you, from deep within the cradle of your me, answering that mystical call (for the sake of our lives). So, yes, my beloved self, you found me (us) in the ether.
The prospect of being consumed
by you…a stranger without form,
entices the atoms in my flesh.
Like frenzied piranhas they begin to nip at each other.
I am flesh,
come here and consume me.
Being this ravenous and insatiable animal that I am, my mouth waters at the thought of sinking my teeth into you, tearing into the provision of your soul, licking up your juices, sucking out your sustenance that I might be sustained. You are the longed for delicacy and tonic that gives me life. You excite me.
But I will reciprocate.
My cannibalism of you will come in the form of
lapping your intimate secretions into my mouth;
this tongue of mine…
will taste and penetrate you without reservations
or taboos…
this tongue of mine,
has more uses than just words…
I lay, flayed before the exposed weapons of my separate demise, an undulating spread of wetness, grinding in ecstasy at the thought of your uncontrolled and ferocious protuberances poised to speak into effect our cooperative destiny…
will you flow into me with the texture of
brown syrup or have the viscosity of spring wine?
I run thick with the sweetness of creation’s roux, thin as the relief of artesian waters to eradicate the cloying dregs of death prior to rebirth when dipped in those intoxicating wet streams…
I wonder if you can truly consume me…
I’m made of ash.
Burnt…
Only charcoal keeps me intact…
But, I can’t write off this possibility;
After all...the Tin Man had Dorothy who unwittingly
wandered into the forest. His heart began to beat.
My reasons for wanting to consume you are selfish…nevertheless, beneficial. You see, it’s impossible for me to lay my mouth upon the terrain of your heart and suck, suck, suck, coveting the life it has for me, without, as I breathe to live, exhaling that same life, now consisting of me, back into you…this is true intimacy…and one heart lives because of the other…and my selfishness is that all I really want is to live…only I know I can’t live without you…(I will only be half alive).
And just maybe, along the daydreams
of your body’s contours I might find reason to be consumed.
And now, to live inside of me becomes your daily quest. The contours of my body excite such lengthy daydreams until to reach the end of me will take another lifetime and another. (I wonder which lifetime this is).
