oblivious

the cool detachment

about this

about us

that you savor and hold

over me like a dog biscuit

when asking Goldie to fetch…

I’m envious.

That I could wake in the morning

without you encumbering

my desire to get up

and

wipe you from my sleepy eyes

and boot you from my thoughts

a mere…

impossibility.

 

possession.

 

every thought,

every word

every single decision between

what i have for breakfast

(nothing)

and whether or not I do laundry today or

put it off another

(procrastination)

all of them,

all the decisions

range around your face in my mind-

thoughts of your grasp,

or the heaving of your breast

swirling,

kicking me in places men seldom like to be

kicked-

bruising me in ways

only a woman like you can.

 

captivated.

 

captured in your web,

your tongue conveying thoughts

that set me on fire

and breathe hope

and life

and everything else

into my soul:

and you don’t even

know what you’ve done.