Meat like flesh the mango bleeds
Stab stab stab the echo heeds
Warnings not unto the night cries
Breathing deep, the weary soul sighs.

Mother brought the silent babe forth
Neither knowing her very gold’s worth
Wide eyed she sank into the dark
And glowing embers fed their mark.

M hates the word flesh. I adore it. the sound, the feel of articulating it. The connotations.

Yes I watched you a while
Eyes heavy, drugged out,
Residing in stillness vaguely
Like a lizard in the dark shivering under cool linens
Until you did something of interest

And I awoke completely
Knowing what I wanted to see
And you would be mad if you knew
But I watched anyway, anxious from the dark breathing heavy
Waiting for you to do something of interest.

peach

June what? Is was the weekend maybe. Maybe last week sometime. Late afternoon I do recall, cause B was on his computer and I had just sat down and leaned back against the headboard and thought, a hot bath would be nice. Maybe I don't want to recall, but this came of it:

Blood flows red and weak in the warm water streaming.
Life flows free and away in the warm air steaming.
I cry in breathless heaves for thoughts that never came.
In childhood they were warped and death simply was.
But never a creation of my own heart and mind.

And I talked to my darling M a day or two later, knowing he was the one who would understand. And it left me crying but feeling better.

The absence of touch is killing me. I am mostly flesh and blood. I am human. And with the absence of touch I think too much. I am weary of thinking. Awake sometimes in the middle of the night, the thoughts consume like fire in a bright white heat.

I panicked when I awoke and you weren't there. I like you and too much.