I love recalling the past of you when we first met, when the Universe nudged me into you, I remember your first smile, shy but sly, your first laugh, full and inviting. your body as it danced, swaying and in sync with my own. I remember your eyes looking at me with a lust of a thousand lovers, then later with love like a thousand poems I don’t want to forget the first time of knowing you and everything that pulled me into those eyes, running. I want all the songs that are ours to wrap up around us every time you walk into the room I don’t want to forget you the first time.
Because those first times always bring me home to you and I love you all over again just like the first time.
She can be full of fun and frivolity
or a chaotic mixture
of intensity and crazy passion
all in one day.
She may travel a trail in the
dark dark woods
wanting to be pushed against the rough
bark of a tall tree
as the sun peeks
as I give her a kiss on her pale freckled cheeks.
She’s exasperating as a girl can be with
ideas such as she.
But I wouldn’t trade her for the world though,
for my own world pales next to her
and all her lovely curves, from smile to almond eyes, to her hips divinely held in my hands, oh, and her heart, her heart, the loveliest curves of all.
She is the softest of the softest, a woman that needs to be touched, she is a bundle of wanting that compels me to please her, every day, every hour, every moment that transpires.
I don’t wish to let my curvy girl down, to fail her, to not show her she is everything to me and more.
I adore her. I love her in so many little ways.
I want my curvy little Red always to adventure with, laugh with, & travel the many ways of this life for ever and always.
98.2 Fahrenheat Degrees, 98.1, 98.0 and so on and on, down, down, down, until I am a cold rigid plank, as rigid as a piece of flesh could be anyway.
Call me Rigor, Mr. Mortis if you’re nasty.
As I say this, I realize the parts of me that will live, will go on in pictures, videos, my writings, and half memories in other people’s distracted minds yet still alive.
That’s kinda cool.
Cry at my funeral or laugh…or do both. I would prefer both. Please also drink and dance afterwards. That drunk girl over there though, twerking over my casket has got to go.
Talk about the dumb shit I did, talk about a kind word or two I threw at you, or when I asked you for nudes. By the way, I’m still waiting on one of your butt. When you finally take it, send it UP. Or is that DOWN?
I’m sure it’s UP, I haven’t been that bad in my life;
I have never kicked a puppy, only petted. But I have hit many a pussy in my lifetime if you know what I mean, and they never complained, and I petted them before and after as they purred graciously.
I was kind, immature, caring, needy, a charmer, careless of others feelings, repentant, codependent, then dependent on only me, then I met Red, a magical creature needing a safe harbor and I gave it.
I loved all the magic which poured forth from her, for I saw it had been bottled up for so long and it needed a nurturing voice to keep it flow, flow, flowing. I am content that I helped her find herself and to show her she was always good enough from the very beginning of her life.
I’ve always wanted to be seen as a good person, but it took me awhile to realize you have to BE a good person to truly be seen as a good person; to yourself most especially. After you do, everything else that follows is just gravy.