Hold me {poem}

Hold me.

Wrap your thick,

capable arms around me

and without words 

ask me not to leave.

Gather me in you

to remember how safe it is here.

Warm.

A fire prepared to combust at the whisper

of breathe into a 

neglected contour of skin. 

Hold my gaze

and you'll see even more to feel;

flickering specs of affirmation.

I see you.

See me.

Look for what you know

yet stay intimately curious

at all that unravels in

tender observation.

Hold space for me.

Let me react. 

Let me thrash with passion and 

cry with want--

softened by your patience

as I try to move from my mind to my heart

and trust that there is no rush

in loving you.

Hold back,

just for a moment.

Collect all that you touch

all that you see

and all that you can admit to want.

Sit with it.

Be provoked.

Be called to feel.

As I learn how to love you,

learn how to receive it.

Take in love not as you

know it to be,

but as it is for us.

And fearlessly hold more tightly

to it.




As published on Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/hold-me-poem/

My worth {poem}

To you I sway like sweet waves of honey,
and though the way my hips move to unheard music has you hypnotized,
there’s more to me than curves to trace with your hands.

My value isn’t in the skin underneath your fingertips as you reach out to touch what tempts you.

Lingering there will not collect my worth, and you cannot kiss me enough to make it known to me.

I do not find value in your arms,

comfort, yes,

arousal

yesss

oh yes

but my space in your bed is not my worth.

Nor is my space in your heart.

Love me.

Please do.

Love me for my body

and the way it fits in the grooves of yours and the way we glide together into each parcel of space.

Love me for the familiar scent of my

skin when you

close in on my neck.

Love me for the heart that

is pressed to yours

and the love you know it has for you—

not because I have told you

but from the undeniable richness of

our colliding energy,

the way your bones know the elixir

of their own marrow.

Love that it is safe here

in Us

and our unwavering honesty—

never has anything we cannot see

or touch

been so true.

Love me for the way I tease your mind

with my thoughts,

and how our dueling perspectives

amplify our senses.

But know that no amount of

attraction will detail my worth.

That while you place value on me,

and I on you

this love is not an exchange.

I do not give you my body,

touch my lips to yours,

feel my bones quake

because to be held by you

makes me worth something.

Your approval

is flattering and

your agreement

fiercely connecting

but I am not validated by it.

I am worth just as much with any of that as with nothing at all;

you see,

my value,

is in my Self

and the purity of my being alive at all—just as yours

should be to you.



As published by Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/my-value-is-not-in-my-body-poem/

She was free {poem}

I knew her before what she called

Love, was lost.

Before the paradigm shattered

and with it

all that seemed to matter to her.

Who was that girl?

A freedom being,

genius in essence;

uncompromisingly her.

She moved with light steps

on quicksand

sinking not an inch

in who and how to be

instead a tease for Temptation itself;

a Wanderess who followed not

and lead without calling.

She led those drawn to her

simply,

the way a patch of grass

begs one to lay and look at the stars

and be peaceful in knowing nothing.

She had no need to know—

the embodiment of trust

whose laugh cast doubt to the wind,

a heart impenetrable by fear.

She was not afraid of Love,

rather marvelled at its unfolding,

immediate in her response,

insatiable in her giving.

She was not concerned with time,

nor a victim to vicious control,

she was at ease learning—

curious yet wise,

a collector of lessons

and a creator of adventures.

She was fascinated by Life

and lived to feel and be,

to see and be seen.

She did not see it coming:

expectation stole

her from presence

and fear settled in, replacing love,

repressing. Taming.

That girl is me:

a woman fiercely piecing herself together,

remembering myself,

unstrangling her heart,

expanding in capacity for and relearning to trust in Love,

willing,

capable,

in full belief that while we lose ourselves

at times in Love,

we find it, truer still, within

—and are set free again.

As published by Elephant Journal: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/she-was-free-poem/

Move slowly {poem}

Move slowly.

Don’t speak.

Close your lips unless to kiss his;

don’t ask him where this is going

or want beyond this night.

Be present.

Unfurl your fingers and

clasp his head in your hands

and lean in.

Lean in, deep into now.

Right here.

Let his hands slip to your back

and be caressed by the magnetic pull

connecting you to him.

Do not taint this intimacy

with hazy ideas of what a moment might amount to—

where is the value in that?

You dilute his desire for you

in questions of what is next.

Ask instead: what do you have to give?

Everything.

Every detail of every feeling

that has you perched on your toes

weightless to this moment—

because the next is not yours to know.

What plan?

Your heart’s pace doesn’t quicken for the future

but for now;

Love does not follow a time line.

And passion dances erratically,

without a pattern to step to.

Step into it.

Let the immediate entanglement with love

captivate you.

Let it have you.

Allow your need to know to

collide with your doubts and disintegrate

—dustlike—

so that your immediate truths might

light like kindling

and enrobe you in the heat of the moment

as they say.

They who know that Love is not an

exchange, that expecting more than now

thins the path of possibility.

Walk that path with ease,

let him take your hand and wander,

slowly,

present,

with your heart as your guide

and your mind fascinated

at the unfolding of your Love story.





As published on Elephant Journal http://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/01/love-him-now-poem/