when she opens you up
her clever bemusement
blessed be you

blessed be you
unhinged and broke open
blessed be you
asymmetric and fervent

blessed be you
that your merits are counted
blessed be you
because your edges are rounded

when she gives to you
her urgent crooked love
blessed be you

when she drains from you
like a dark-eyed gypsy
blessed be you

blessed be you
uncreased and pressed flat
blessed be you
teetering and undone

blessed be you
wrung out and boiled down
blessed be you
buoyant and effervesced

blessed be you
sweet boy
for her blessings
these blessings that are yours to count

Because you would be silent, wouldn’t you?  Perhaps there hiding in your chambers, perhaps not; but silent either way.

(Oh, and by the way, this is a fairy tale after all, so don’t later recall it as fact, nor even fancy.  Entertaining the impossible is always a dangerous pursuit, and don’t you forget it.)

She would listen intently then, because she knows your reticence, that vellum skin you wear so smartly.  And when she was finally satisfied that she had your heart all to herself she would whisper. She would whisper to your heart what she dare not say out loud:

That you are loved more deeply than you can possibly fathom. That she sees your battles and fights beside you. That she knows your strength and feeds from it like wanton, bledout barrack. That she witnesses your joy, feels it, savors it, drinks her belly full of it and knows God. That you are her wellspring, her warranty, her covenant.  You are the man who who almost didn’t show up.

And you would hear the wonder, sweet on lips, when she whispers:  “But you did, didn’t you? You showed up just for me.”

She then whispers her love.

(a kinda-sorta sonnet)

come to me, he said, my love
come to me and be my heart
my breath, my life, my wise companion
and sail with me on gilded wings
across a sky that knows no shame
into a world that knows no blame

be with me, he said, my love
be with me and be my tart
my bitch, my slut, with wild abandon
fuck my face and fingers, girl-whore
and ride my hard and leaking dick
to leave your cum upon it slick

i heard right, i knew, the first
i heard true and glistened all:
his breath, his life, his jumbled man-tongue
and sailed with him on gilded wings
across a sky that dare not see
into a world that could not be

where my bard was quick undone
his heart but figment’s fancy
and by his lust was held cheap ransom
fuck his face and fingers, did i
and took his shaft with cold constrain
his girl-whore now, mine self-disdain

seed then spent, his deed compleat
nought figment of mine fancy
my flesh did answer this heart undone:
an errant knight was he at best
i’d come to him, believed the lie
that crossed his heart and hoped to die

passion cold, stripped raw, unclothed
in my eyes, his lies struck mute
no chance for sway, he did abandon
this girl who’d sailed on gilded wings
who’d come to him, believed the lie
had crossed her heart, hoped not to cry

deeds of pilfered drupe thus wrought
from this bard, i took my leave
for breath, for life, mine own companion
i sailed away on gilded wings
across the sky that knew his blame
left this world: his loss, his shame

i wake to your mysterious sweetness
a thick confection of dark enchantment
i wake to you: my dark lord singing
my savior complete in faceless armor

so close now: i can hear your mouth move
so close now: i feel your breath
deep in my belly

intoning metered, delicious seduction
you unfold me
you unravel me
you stretch my chaste limbs
horizon to horizon

you whisper, you murmur
you speak in tongues
your mouth is music
your mouth is prayer
electric canticles for celibate flesh

this is bethlehem, sweet lover
this is calvary, my darling

and my body, now liquid, forgets its slumber
my voice, now full, forgets its silence

and

i genuflect in glory and cry amen

i feel it always.

your breath, an endless empty lyric:
that skin deep is not always lawless
nor reckless with secrets.

and so you soap your skin
and keep it slick:
you cannot have me stick after all.
and you hold your breath
like liquid gold might pour from your lips
if you opened wide and whispered the truth.

still I stay close
and still i move my body against your skin
trying to reach you around your corners.

around the corners of you
where on your other side
i will grind mud into your pores
and smack your greedy mouth
again and again and again.

until you scream out.
scream, scream, scream.
and we both see
and you know
(as if you don’t already)
that the secrets of your skin
were only rumors started by you
and the secrets of your held tongue
were merely widely held beliefs.

your lips

let me eat them
gnaw on them
spit on them
then lick it back off
then swallow it
our spit, our mouth-cum

suck on them
swallow them
bite them
fuck them with my cunt-mouth
rubicund too, rabid with need

then kiss them
kiss you
kiss me

with my real mouth
my girl mouth
my carnivore-mouth
my bitch-cannibal mouth
my slut-succubus mouth

kiss me

your warrior’s heart
its toughened blister
-but not for me
-not ever for me

has served you well:

keeper of your flame
it’s kept your secrets
kept your seasoned wit
kept your quiet expectations
kept your easy wisdom

kept you for me
everything for me
all of you for me
always for me
forever for me

just waiting for me:

to untether its strings
puncture its wound
untangle its weave

and I am here:

so that we shall fold
this rare metal
this precious metal
this noble metal
this keeper of your heart
this weathered chain mail

and keep it safe
as it has kept you

They made fun of her crush on Michelle, the class princess. Teased her, taunted her, harrassed her. Called her Pussy Breath and Muff Diver. Michelle laughed it off, even was kind to Mary when no one was around to see.

So long ago and far away, yet the scars linger as childhood wounds are wont to do.

This is Manhattan. This is today.

Now see Mary: Tall and blonde, successful and happy. Loved by Elizabeth who kisses the scars on those rare occasions when they make an appearance. Mary is making love to Elizabeth in the bed of a thousand roses. That’s what they call it, after the rose petals, Elizabeth’s romantic gesture on their first anniversary.

Mary is touching the gentle slope of her lover’s breast, watching the goose flesh quiver in response. She runs her thumbnail across the rasberry nipple, watching it spring from under the enamel edge. Elizabeth moans, whispers, I love you. Mary knows this is true, yet it still fills her with wonder, with awe, that love runs this deep, this true for her.

I love you, too, she whispers back, spreading Elizabeth’s legs. Let me show you how much. I am going to make you cum with my mouth, darling.

She lowers her face to the moist labia before her. Ever so slowly, just so she can savor the scent of her lover’s arrousal.

Somewhere far away a woman named Michelle would give all to be loved like this for just one day.

this is you

my prettiest thing of all

i shall drape you ’round my neck
or wind you through the tresses of my hair
or smooth you like lotion into my skin

you will be the blush that tints
the sovereign scent
the sun-hued tan
the one true smile line
the pink scar that fades not ever
the birth bruise that stays forever

and i will be a pretty thing
your pretty thing
the pretty thing we made together

crawl to serve
live to serve
die to serve

you are her warrior prince
her captive
her nursemaid
her cocksmith
her whipping post

you will bow to her
her voice is music
her touch is baptism

give her your life
live to give all
die to give all

you are her manservant
her dark star
her touchstone
her birthright
her blessed one

you will cry for her
endure for her always
belong to her only

be everything for her
live to be everything
die to be everything

you are her favored slave
her rocketeer
her manboy
her prerogative
her choice