2007 November:

2007 March:

2007 January:

2006 December:

I've never like my snow-like skin
but as my flesh warms to your touch
self consiouness drifts away
but tiny remenents remain
like a half-forgotten dream
as you trace my scars with your fingers
making comments on my marks
my body responds involuntarily
and though that act defies free will
I don't mind
not really
I come to you in supplication
a year's worth of tear in my hands
and a sheen of sweat on my body
my breath heaving
this is my offering to you
like an insect you sip my nectar
in the folds like leaves
and I exhale into you
as the sun rises
this naked yearning isn't romantic
it's desperate
you work inside me until I become a metaphor
light, translucent
without substance
I am only imagery
but I don't mind
not really