Photogenic Vulnerables//Mouth Is A Locket (Two Poems)

9-22-22 @ 8:20 pm

Photogenic Vulnerables (love Interlude) 

I watch as you make your way to the small little black stool,

and you smile for the camera.

Lightning of feeling jolts through my body once again,

the way I’m starting to get used to now every time I acknowledge your existence.

The smile is enough to destroy me, but this. This is what shatters me, through and through,

I can’t believe you, the way your vulnerable cute smile shows your photogenic dimples at the camera.

I wasn't surprised when the cameraman wanted to take more pictures of you, your sincere happiness swelling my heart

and leaving my body so stunned. I was so shaken. I didn’t know that a human body, less the person itself,

would be able to reach that height of amphetamine, it was crazy about how it was all genuine and real. I

t looks a little bit like faith, and a lot like hope; too much like the love that I want. I wish you could fill me in with your dirty little secrets.

I’d like to know that type of euphoria, that type of love that my throat works itself for. The drying of my throat and the shakiness and wetness of my hands, are all pining for what you already have. I’m envious; I have wondered what it would be like to be that gorgeous person

that you are, always laughing, mostly but sometimes smiling. I want to rob you of your light and every peak of your shiny luminescence.

I want to steal your breath, and I want you to use mine instead. I need to take your lips and open them wide to get them stuck on mine and admit to theft.  I will raid you of everything you own and call it mine, sharing everything but the same hands, all of it but the same beautiful eyes. 

9-22-23 @ 5:56pm 

Mouth Is A Locket (Love Interlude) 

Spit them out, darling. Let your hidden secrets drool all over my body, let it consume me, and let me accept you.

You mutter something under your breath, but when I ask, you say “nevermind”. That is a sharp ache in my waist,

dark pain in my eyes that was shot on my face when you said that word. he’s got his hand on me like he owns me;

like I’m so easily stopped and conquered.

And not gonna lie, I totally am. I never voluntarily gave him control, he just reeled it in slowly and measuredly

and caught the big game fish. Now I’m trying to find him as well, his little intricate key to his mouth of a locket.

And for a second, I wonder if I can pry them open with my lips, confuse ourselves with quiet poetry swirling

in my head as I’m hysterically overwrought with lust; with the loss of control, no steps of grieving for it required.