sex

Aureolin Blooms

 

 

Florida showers leave the sun to hang hopeful in the sky.

Even under the safety of the umbrella it left

its reflection to bloom aureolin under your fingers

at the first drops of rain —

like when the artists had spread their paint across the watercolors

hanging inside the café,

bright splashes of hope to contrast the blues. Across the table

you uncross your legs, open

like the orchids flourishing on the windowsill,

lounging in the humidity

while it collects in your hair and trickles down your neck

like the most bewitching of poetry.

 

 

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Monet’s Parasol Beauty

 

She was a woman built in technicolor:

a vibrant Monet's parasol beauty in a miniskirt with

indecencies etched into her eyelids

and the promise of
galaxies mapped out on her lips.

 

 

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The Couch

 

 

There is a couch

            In a room.

            In a house.

            On a street.

            In a city.

            In a state.

            In a country.

That in this moment,

as I straddle you,

is my whole world.

 

 

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Summer

She lingered over her martini, an olive

floating gracefully in the gin,

vermouth and humor sitting dry on her tongue.

The summer evening slowly inched itself across the tablecloth

until the light from the candle at the center

hindered its crusade to bring on the dark.

I ran my hand over the flame, letting it lick the dent of my palm,

inching it further down until

the quick pain reminded me of that first pinprick of love

the night we met. Do you remember

the earthy smell of the apples slowly rotting under the leaves?

The world altering itself beneath our feet?

There was a sense of urgency back then, a need

for hastened fingertips and my lips to always be pressed to yours, 

skin rubbed in raw emotion until it burned like kindling 

in the night. Your eyes were golden

under the lanterns, your hands pale birds

swooping over your plate.

In that moment my skin burned for the ocean

of your curls across my hips,

the charm on your necklace to brush against my thigh,

the warmth of summer waves to pulse beneath my skin. 

 

cause I don't wanna be your friend

Folder: 
2020

touch my heart when you miss me.

give me one more word.

one word that can compete with every letter

I’ve ever thought about writing to you.

 

what is sleep anyway?

besides time passing in a place we can’t be seen

balconies, fingertips,

things we shouldn’t be doing.

 

what is sleep anyway?

cause I don’t wanna be your friend

 

you can tell me something’s wrong

but I don’t know wrong from right

 

just that the timing of my heartbeat

gave me away

 

and now I can’t tell time

without your hand on my wrist

your taste in my mouth

 

let me love you like I have always wanted to love the world

let me write for you like I can’t think about anything else

let me be here and not have to keep wondering what it’s like

 

what is sleep anyway?

besides time passing in a place we can’t be seen

long drives, longer sunsets,

forevers we can’t define.

 

what is sleep anyway?

just the cover of darkness for

things we shouldn’t be doing.

 

what is sleep anyway?

cause I don’t wanna be your friend

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 5/14/2020

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How, And Why?

Folder: 
Outlook

It's been a while since I've seen you, been a while since I've heard from you.
Your face is the one thing I can still see, and your voice is the one thing I can still hear.
Mentally, I saw you walking, but you passed me, and didn't notice I was there.
I tried to call out to you, but you didn't hear me.

Once, I thought I loved you, everyone else seemed to think I did too.
But all I felt went away very quickly, like I knew it would. 
When I met you, I was happy, we talked almost always, and it was great having someone to talk to.
You were there, when he wasn't. 

I appreciate and love you for that.

I've tried to picture what it would be like if I was with you, what it would be like if I was yours instead of his.
Would I be happier? Would I experience what I'm not right now?
So many questions, and so many answers which I haven't found. 
Everytime I am alone, I feel some sort of sadness, some sort of emptyness.

Not that it completely has to do with you or him, but I think more to do with the loneliness I've been living with.
Making myself believe things could be different every time I find someone new.
But, you know how it goes, and how its gone for me.
How to walk away from something seems easy, but sometimes, people struggle even when they know they have to let go.

Being with someone new is something I almost don't want to do again.
I don't want to tell anyone else stories of my past, and how I once was.
I don't want to do things and not keep it to myself.
I've always been a quiet and reserved girl, I've always been you could say, overly careful about who I allow to touch me.

Doing things with him, I grew comfortable with, and something I became okay with.
Doing things with you, I've questioned, and thought of, something I would've had to grow comfortable and okay with.
Could I ever do things with you, can I see myself doing things with you, and would I ever see and hear you again........but this time, for real?

 

 

I look at how other girls live their lives, and sometimes think of how they handle being physical. 
How do they allow themselves to give their all to one guy, and then another after some time has passed?
is there never any regret? Is there never any fear and doubt?
Where does the trust comfort and idea of being okay with it come from?
If things go wrong, how are they able to allow themselves to do it again, and with someone else who isn't meant to be their someone?

And off the topic I wonder, how was someone like you, able to seemingly fall for me?
I am a damaged broken record you see. 
What is there to possibly like about me, how can one like me, and why?
Even after trying to be with someone for 5 years, I still don't know why he chose me........but then there's you. 
Why did you pick me? why havent you given up? Why do you still wish to have me?
What is there, aside from the reason to do with my body, to like about a woman like me?

 

TODAY’S WOMAN

Today’s woman is not a woman.

She’s a man

Who steps across my threshold by lure:

Who beguiles me into servile reticence

With the subtlety

Of a bloodless coup d’état.

 

She’s not like mama

Who bows with snow-white hair

To scrub the kitchen floor,

Who knows the right place

For the kettle and the pan

After each and every use,

Who still understands

The language of the suckling

That clutches up

At hay-dry breasts,

In whose charms and grace

Father still basks blessedly,

Whose gentle love

Gets the lion to crawl,

Whose kindness

We and the world trumpet

Upon mountain tops.

 

Today’s woman is not a woman.

She’s a man

Who hides granite balls

Under furry hide,

Who is more erudite than me,

And has become wiser also.

No wonder

She no longer

Stirs my balls,

Neither my brains.

But how could she?

She’s a man

Who does not cry tears

That melt the heart.

She’s a man

Full of bones and nerves.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was written by me in Benin City, Nigeria, in 1994, during one of the forced vacations of the University of Port Harcourt. As usual, I spent the vacation with my uncle who lived in Benin. At a point I had become so put off by my uncle’s new wife’s seemingly patronizing attitude. I couldn’t help entertaining other strands of thoughts some of which considered the possibility that the quest of the modern woman for gender equality might also upset certain natural equilibria that always existed between men and women. 

FREE ORGIES

Folder: 
2019

FREE ORGIES

 

 

   Baby nothing is emblematic about you,

Break my bones and my heart,

Shatter like blooded mirrors,

Pieces of memoirs,

Sweet bombshells!

 

But we not different you and me,

Pornography sound like phonography!

Tattooed in my crown,

All those orgies,

Today finally free!

 

Silk sheets over my cold flesh,

69 is the number of the hotel room,

Just call me and I shall please you!

Don’t forget the cash,

Nothing is free, baby!

 

They shall fail to recall about me soon,

So jiggle me to the sky,

Sundrenched, the stars in my eyes,             

And the rain runs over my cheeks!

Nothing more nothing less!

 

Soon I should falls to amnesia,

To emptiness where I belongs,

Nothing was ever there,

Tables has turned,

Hope fades away….

 

 

         @2014.H.NAUDET.MARGOT

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Sexual Thoughts [Sexual Fiverse: Poem of Five Lines]

Sexual


Utterly sensual


Thoughts of you


I have in mind


By thinking, you I find

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