Didn't Do Much

I was taken by surprise,
having expected you to behave like
a mature, grown man.
You ignored my repeated assertions
and proceeded as you had apparently
already planned.

I was operating under the assumption
that you would honor my requests,
my obvious attempts at distance
in the face of your insistence.

You failed to recognize my worth,
and felt free to take my dignity
with you when you left.

Apparently you've had your fill,
and have satisfied whatever need
you thought you had.
I'm not sure how such an encounter
satisfied you-I know it didn't do much for me.

What You Did

I've gotten over my intense anger,
but am still bewildered.
Why did you behave like you did?
What did I do to deserve such treatment?
Please tell me that it was due to intense guilt
and not because you're a deceitful, hateful person.
Guilt makes people act stupid-I know this.

If you're a loathesome monster,
wouldn't that sociopathic element be evident elsewhere?
There must be some semi-logical explanation for....
what you did. Help me rationalize it.
You have removed the last vestiges of faith I had in men.
The truth hurts. But at least I've remembered
to bring those walls back up. Thanks for reminding me.

Italia, Parts One and Two

One

Land of light and grace
Color intensified, and awash with texture.
Oiled canvasses, olives
Light shifts
Particles float through golden air.
A patina, the residue of time,
filters through my lungs, my mind.
Marble holds the form that one history took;
Wood too often decays, leaving nothing but questions.
Canvas shows the color of fate, as told by the artist.
Texture is the thing I love about this place.


Two

Slabs of marble, without imperfections.
I see a boy in my mind-
white, hard, blemish free.
David stands in youthful glory,
full of the hubris of conquerors.
His form shows God's brilliance,
expressed with a human passion-
earthly flesh, carved out of stone.
Thousands pay homage to his fabled courage,
these subjects conquered without the sling and stones.

Exhalation Comes

Fingers, the seekers
that sear their vision
into my skin, prowl against
the shadows of flickering flame.
My curves savor the
onslaught of tongue and flesh
as you devour
whatever reason I posses.
Who needs a road map?
Not you, who remembers
all directions in the dark.
Breath travels slowly
as your tongue follows eyes
and I grab you with my senses.
I am done and undone by my want for you.
Heat swells with a yet unsated need.

The wine of certain satisfaction
courses through veins which course
through my body, your body
as they join in the exchange
of heat and light.
I glisten and gasp
as I search for my composure
among shadow-ravaged sheets,
then drop all pretenses
and throw my head back
in abandonment of all the things
that weigh me down.
Pleasure comes from
a glance, a touch, in a
breath inhaled and held.
Then exhalation comes.