The Lover

softening the edges

Arms crossed above my head
I drape myself across the edge
of the counter
and stare into the black of my sweater
wherein appears a glistening pool of water.

I look into the feeling
for a sense of softness
amidst sharp edges.

The sides of my ass throb,
reawakening
from the chill of a brisk walk
where I attempt to reclaim serenity
through sound waves.

All that’s left is this pulse.

I move myself to a stool
at the counter
strewn with ends and odds and
consider all this changing.

Were the words I used honest?
Or ways to create
subtle separation?

I want to become an invitation
to you and I
to crack open
and breathe again.

Breathe in pain
breathe out blessings
a teacher once told me.

I do it.

It works.

The pulse is still here.
My heart rate is slowing.
I am softening.

thank you for reading, lover. make love, make art, be hot is where you are invited to fall in love with the rhythm of your being through the erotic playground of inner alchemy.

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