Loving You is a Drug

Loving you is a drug

I know I should quit you

But the further I stay clear

The more I want you near.

Loving you is like a black potion

Effervescent, implicit

So much I don’t wish to commit to stay

Yet here I am again.

Loving you is a hurt I yearn for everyday

In bed I lie in bed awaiting your return

Your sultry voice whispering my name

That also comes with your touch.

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The Sea

All land ends at the sea:

All matter, including non-living

The sea was our birth

In death, after all joy, sorrow and pain is spent

The sea then beckons us to return

Recycled like a hurricane’s eye

Who knows what next we will become

Would we even care at all?

Victoria’s Secret

Her name was Victoria and she had a secret

It came in the form of questions

Of which I, at that moment, unceremoniously bore the answer:

To guess if she had on any bra under her shirt

And if right, were her nipples hard or relaxed

She wrapped a blindfold around my eyes

All I had of her presence was her perfume: Coco Chanel

She proffered my hand and laid it on her thigh

Come on, big boy,” she teased. “I’m waiting.”

Sultry lips coated with lipstick

Her hand stole onto my crotch

I was hard: I wanted her so bad.

We were in her home, in her bedroom on Lenox Avenue

The wind from the lake ruffled the curtains

Her husband was out of town

The neighbours might have seen us together

Noisy bastard, except she didn’t care

My hands roamed past her thigh to grasped her rump

She chortled. “Warmer,” she cooed

Under her shirt they slipped

I gasped at the feel of her naked skin

Exquisite

I cupped her tits

Naked; her nipples hard and excited

She laughed and flung off her shirt

She sat on my lap and loosened my blindfold

Now, my secret is yours,” she murmured,

Sealing my lips with a kiss.

Snow


One day, and it is coming,

Just like the northern strong winds

I will become old and grey

Skin shrivelled and brain senile

Sitting often with a mug of tea in hand

And reminisce more about the past:

Did I love you enough?

Did I play with the kids often?

Did we smile and laugh a lot?

Just as we were there to bury our Dead

When we too become dead

Who will pick up the burden to bear?

So many questions

My mind grows weary with fear

This cup of tea is getting warm

Like me seated here by the fireplace alone

While outside it has started to snow.

A Song to Myself

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Today I wrote a song to myself

Nobody else was invited

These walls shield my music

These lyrics I can only keep for so long . . .

Today I did away with you from my mind

I can only drink your wine too much

Before my pain, my hurt, these feelings

Become revelers at my wake . . .

Today the sun did not come out to play

It was the first day all over again

I walk the wilderness alone

All I have for company is my shadow . . .

This is a song to myself

Dark and bleak, so it seems

I hear Rama crying for her lost son

How was it to know it was me all along.