My Lovers

This Is My Belated Valentine's Post--Just some re-posted poems I've written to my lovers.

Jerry*Lover Who Is My Lover*Lover Who Is Not My Lover
And to the one, young, sweet, beautiful, intelligent pierced and tattooed woman I fell in love with. She stole my heterosexual heart and showed me that love has no gender boundaries.



Your Love
Your love made it safe for me to love.
Opened me to the
freedom at loves core.
Your love,
Embraced me.
Pierced me.
Healed me.
Your love taught me how to love.


Wanting You





I know the difference between a want and a need.
I need very little.
I want a lot.
I practice wanting less.
I want you.
Now.
So intensely it feels like a need.
I just can't settle down until I have you.
So I need you to come and give me some of your calm.
Nothing else is working.
I don't want to practice wanting you less.
I like the feeling.
But come soon anyway.






Spooning With You
I love spooning with you.
Back and forth we move
throughout the night.
Me squeezed up against you,
my hand holding your belly.
You squeezed up against me,
your hand cupping my breast.
On our backs with legs entwined,
your one hand rests on my yoni
while the other grasps a handful of my hair.
In the morning I hate to get up.
I wait until you abandon me,
pulling your warm body up into the cold.
Only then I relent and follow suit.



Your Morning Breath
I was so cold this morning when I was driving by where you slept. I thought how nice it would be to just pull over and come in, crawl into her bed with you and cuddle up next to your warm body and smell your morning breath.

Rug Burn

I wore a dress that showed my skinned knees and
made up a plausible lie just in case someone asked.

"I tripped jogging up those darn concrete stairs!"

Lover who is my lover felt bad

but I told him it's okay,

that all new relationships

deserve the initiation of rug burn.

They really hurt but the pain brings a sweet memory.

Two Lovers
Two lovers fill me.
One creates yearning for the other.
Differences complete,
As desires increase.
Peaceful anticipation
Oh! This joyful journey.


You Swore Communion With Me
You swore communion with me lover.
Do you think I'm through with you?
I've only just begun.
But you've a higher price to pay now.
I promised I would demand the best.
Well of course, if I have to put up
with the worst of you.
I'm ready when you are.

A New Lover
My body reacts to thoughts of you.

A vulnerability to the newness.

Not knowing what to expect.

But trusting nevertheless,

as we enter into the anticipated unknown.

Imagining more of this exploratory pleasure,

my heart speeds up and my skin flushes warm.

I Yearn For That
Basking in the sweetness.
Remembering
how you fill me.
In my mind.
Over and over again.
I yearn for that.
And breathe it in.

Her Car

Her car was parked out front confirming you were together.

The two of you locked in sweet embrace,

I smiled as the warmth spread in my chest.

I had forgotten something inside

but chose not to disturb you.

It could wait.

I could wait for you

as I waited for him.

I laughed at the sweetness

of our love.

We Fill Each Other Lover
We fill each other lover.
I am swept away on the raging torrent of your desire.
Your wild lust pummels and then satiates me.
Your arms cradle and keep me safe.
I melt into your stillness, emptying,
Until we rise again, possessed.

The Seducer
I notice more and more
my willingness to let you go.
But nothing is forced and I realize
that the key is not in
actually letting go
but in the willingness to do so.
Still, a conscious releasing comes
and my grasping of you loosens.
More and more each day
and I'm left feeling what remains.
The love--just as intense.
Just as compelling.
But with less attachment.
Dammit.
Why is it that you always have
such palpable lessons for me
even in your absence?
You come to me in my dreams--
again last night.
And it's just the same
as in my waking life.
I have no ability to disengage.
I am your slave
with every right to say no.
But there is nothing to resist--
so I don't.
The power of your presence
is a drug that overwhelms
my ego's puny will.
So I watch myself
do your bidding.
It's my pleasure.
I watch your drama
and mine
and ours.
The persuasion,
you have over me
without even trying.
And I know you are
just a guy
and not even that special really.
Except to me and whoever else
that has fallen to love you.
You are just you being you.
You are what my friend calls
The seducer.


Waiting

My last lover insisted that I wait.
He teased me with his charm
as I begged for morsels of his leftovers.
I'm done with patient waiting.





The Emptiness That Fills Me

You open me up and crack me to my core.
I watch it happen, you just being you,
enjoying me and our connection.
Loving. Openhearted. Present.
Totally in your body.
I surrender and follow.
Orgasm often brings me pain.
Not physical pain.
Not emotional suffering.
Just deep openhearted pain
at the emptiness that fills me.



Today I Ached

Today I ached for him to kiss me.
Not the tight lipped pecks he usually offers me.
But a real kiss, soft and lingering and warm.
Imagining this, I longed for your passion.
And blessed the day you claimed me as your own.



Dream Lover

He came to me last night while I slept.
Greeting me, he pressed his body into mine.
We lingered in the juicy richness between us.
His hardness brought us to our knees as I pulled him closer.
I knew I was breaking the rules.
Or was I?

Drunk On You
I want to drink your wine
and drown drunken in your ocean
tasting only sacredness.




My Wetness
Facing you with quiet apprehension
as the fire burns between my legs.
I fear the erupting lava flow
that threatens to penetrate my dress.
Exposing my wetness
as I stand and turn my back to you.





Married To The Buddha
My girlfriends call him Bodhisattva.
I call him Buddhapest.
With those long dangly ear lobes that he refuses to pierce.
I tease him about the way he talks.
Like he's still walking Jersey streets after 30 years as a California boy.
And those Albert Einstein eyebrows that I chew on in bed
and muss up in public places
or otherwise groom for him
when the occasion calls for a more respectable presentation.
Gentle brown eyes that beg me
to cut his curly salt and pepper hair
that he swears he can take no more.
His passionate kisses fill me with his sweet breath.
His strong hands with slender fingers, adorned with my wedding ring and his father's star sapphire, play me like his drums--soft and gentle, hard and intense
till his forearms ache.
He implores me to grab his ass, tense and overamped with so much energy he fears he'll explode.
And his chest, with man breasts and nipples always erect.






I imagine him in his army green tee-shirt hugging their form.
And his bleach stained jeans with the hole,
perfectly placed for a discreet peek of his likewise perfect cock.
He sings and I still tremble. I glance at him with his glasses on and the sight invokes a sigh.
Seven years and counting...




Forbidden Fruit

I saw her on Sunday
In red hair and tee shirt tugging her breasts.
Watching discreetly, wanting her to see me.
I understood that we would offer no recognition
But her face...
Indelibly etched in my mind the remainder of the day.

More Forbidden Fruit
Unknowingly I step through the threshold of your temple
Worshiping at your altar of white as you step outside of yourself
Lusting you in black as you share your thoughts with others, ignoring me
An enigma I've created in my mind
I stare and gently turn away, in respect and self-righteous indignation



Cut Me To The Quick
Friday morning you cut me to the quick.

In your bed, naked and vulnerable, I listened to your concerns about him and her. Endeavoring to hold on to myself and simply love, I felt numb more than anything else. I wanted to want nothing more than what you freely offered. I also wanted a cup of coffee...and a deep penetrating good morning fuck.

You explained your dilemma, that when I went home to him, you would be there alone. You said you wanted a singular relationship. To wake up in bed with the same woman every morning. You said that you wouldn't settle, no matter how lonely you got.

I would have settled for a cup of warm tea and gazing into your eyes. I wanted for you what you wanted for yourself.

I'd brought pictures and poetry to share but you had no time. Maybe you had no coffee or tea either.

Saturday night he made intense love to me and my damn broke. I sobbed and felt every texture of my shame, hurt and insecurity. His eyes gazed into mine as he entered me and cracked me open. My pain rushed in, filling me. I emptied and loved you more.