My heaven, yes that kind of heaven was between
his lips when he sang those songs to me,
his guitar strings sounded like ocean waves and his voice the rumble of thunder, a perfect bullet poisoning my soul a billion times,
it was like I was addicted to it.
My kind of heaven was hearing those words like
i love you before and after midnight,
his tongue tasted like vanilla when he was sweet,
when it was sunny, when the weather turned and nobody was there,
just me, him and his cat.
My home was too far away, my dreams were in my suitcase, my spoken words and my thoughts still smell like his kisses,
no one knows, but even if I'm happy and alone now,
I'm a bit like a chryseis, a slave to those memories, of happy faces and promises we never kept.
Categories:
chryseis, art, beautiful, black love,
Form: Free verse
Frustration is a sign of desire it's true.
I can reach out but not touch you.
I can strain to see but have not sight of you.
I try to remember your beautiful face.
Yet am unable well to trace.
I want to hear your pretty voice.
Beyond all that I want you to know,
my love for you is no choice.
Oh how I yearn for your breasts and kisses.
To answer your god sent missives.
Being with you I owe no remises.
Knowing with your pa we'll have reminisces.
I Hector and you Chryseis
I monsieur and you my missus.
Under The Lord we need no politesses.
Categories:
chryseis, love,
Form: Rhyme