candycox

psychedelic moon trip

the night began like quiet breathing,
gentle, pale, and shallow,
a surrealist painting exhaled into being.
a flicker of light. a flourish of stars.
a delicate ebb and flow of existence.
i remember how time no longer made sense,
and how your words dripped in moonlit
mischief
and an opulence of wonder.
the beach was in a coma,
quiet, deserted, bare as our breaths,
reincarnated into a resplendent canvas
of our imaginations
gone awry.
illusion rippled in the clouds,
a menagerie of faces and animals
and objects without names,
a churning push and pull of oddities
and subversions.
creatures of the night, you and me,
rulers of a new world, bundled as we were
in a sense of rediscovery and senseless
speculation.
the air was alive
with a temporal magic
that shifted and swirled the clouds
into our very own Starry Night experience.
it was the manifestation of all that shuddered
and sang in our souls.
a hint of marvel. of impending rebirth.
a prickling of goose-bumps and outer worldly delusions.
the fabric of reality unraveled
and redefined in our heads
no crowds. no clutter. no reminders of city life,
just us and an alien landscape of our own remaking,
barren and inviting (just as we liked it),
and just as fleeting as the purplish glow
of the ocean waves
and the last glimmers
of the moon
on our chilled cheeks.

morning love poem
~ for Christopher ~

i wake up to his snoring and his smell in my hair.
he smells so good, so delicious, i inhale
his skin,
his musty scent of mischief
and reckless beauty,
hints of danger, dark and alluring,
deep like the cosmos
and just as mysterious.
i exist quietly beside him
barely breathing
barely moving
tracing the outlines of his tattoos
while drawing invisible ones
of my own.
i feel him, taste him, savor him,
my fingers become his.
i want to explore his body, map out my favorite spots
and lavish love in all the right places.
i want to memorize him
remember the curve of his neck
the lines of his face
how perfectly his lips fit into mine
i want to know every part of him
with my hands,
let my fingers do the remembering,
let my mouth do the loving,
let moments like this linger
like the softness
the stillness
of morning