his-jolly-kitten: “Don’t take your eyes off me when I speak to you, Kitten. Eyes on Daddy, always.”
(Source: steampunkgasoline)
The pictures on my wall,
In fifteen different colors,
Starting with Forsythia
The first flower of summer
And I don’t think I’ll be finished
Till I’ve begun to understand this
But you are stretched out in the sunlight
As your laughter fills my canvas
As the sun falls into my fingers
On your back against the blinds
Tracing out your hours
And filling in your lines
I curl in your spirals
As you silhouette the window
When my brush forgives itself
It spills lines upon your pillow
And standing in the middle
Of the lines you’ve laid down before
Trying to paint my picture into yours
When I paint you in the corner
As your shoulders trap the light
See the sunshine filling golden cups
Smell the wine scent of the night
I’ve seen your eyes in paintings
As cathedrals cried to the Christ
Let me paint your face in colors
Hang your hair down in an elaborate mane
You’re standing in the middle
Of lines you laid down before
Trying to paint my picture into yours
In the morning let me find you
As I call to you by name
Your body warm beside me
Not imprisoned in a frame
I could never find the colors
Of the light to find to paint you
With those roses in your hand
The smell of wine and naturality
And you’re standing in the middle
Of lines you’ve laid down before
Trying to paint my picture into yours
night crept through my window
as I lay awake in
melancholy disquiet
the stars liquefied and flowed
like honey
sensually coating my body
igniting me
leaving me a glowing ember
seething with impotent lust
the moon dissolved
pervading my senses
with a silvery saccharine narcotic
singeing my perception
with smoldering hallucinations
of eroticism
but oh, the temptress moon
smelled of your sweet essence
and left me high with wanton desire
unconsummated
as night crept out again
