Sugar

I lead men

to the edge

of divine abyss.

Wrap them like gifts

for the Gods,

then watch them become

unwrapped.

Melt like sugar

into smooth sweetness;

dissolve in the heat

of my hands.

My siren song

a lullaby.

My honey realm

a shadow dream,

gated;

I hold all the keys.

Lost

Perhaps I was

cardamom

in your coffee,

scent of cinnamon

after too long;

spice of life.

Yet for you

I traversed

the Silk Roads,

entered tribal lands,

became lost.

Sacred songs

encircled me,

of wildness

and love,

holy longing.

In this desert,

arid and mysterious,

your lips

are like

water.

Are you an oasis

or mirage?

I cannot tell.

Still, I drink deeply

of you,

subsisting on

memories;

your lingering reflection

in this shimmery well

of dreams.

Sometimes I Love You

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Sometimes I love you
in a way
that bends the mind.

Sometimes I love you so much
that I soar through the night
on my little witches’ broomstick
all the way to the end of the Earth
to see you,
to hold your body against mine
and kiss your lips.

Sometimes I love you so much
that marvelous food pours forth
from the tips of my nipples,
elaborate meals, with meats and vegetables, sumptuous and satisfying,
as I sense your hunger
and wish
to feed you
from my own breast.

Sometimes I love you so much
that I lay golden eggs
in the gilded nest of my bedroom,
full of dreams
for you,
of whatever your heart desires,
like a djinni goddess of the midday boudoir,
dressed in sexy lingerie,
so that you may nurture them to maturity
with the seed
of your passion.

Sometimes I love you
and my heart stretches open
to accommodate you
as you penetrate
the inner sanctum of my soul.

Sometimes you enter me so hard,
so forcefully,
that cracks and fissures appear
within the fragile walls
of my being.

Sometimes I love you.
And sometimes not.