It is Spring

It is Spring
I don't want
To go home.

It is Spring
I don't want
To stay in place.

It is Spring
I want
To make mistakes.

It is Spring
I want
To fall off a cliff,

And scream
The fierceness
In my heart
In my love.
To prove
I'm enough.

It is Spring
I don't know
What I want
I know
I just do. 

Whiskey

I want to strip
The taste
Of whiskey
From your mouth
More so now –
That it’s forbidden
On my lips
Like your lips were
A lifetime ago.
And every time
I hold you down
Between my knees
I hold the world.
Once, you loved
My long, dark hair
Covering all our
Transgressions
Now you love
The cracked, jagged
Beautiful edges,
I let remain
Because you can promise
The world
To my neck.
Beneath my
Wicked, wicked ways
My collection of strays
My smiles, my guiles
My fixation with erstwhiles
I’m always on my knees
Ripping my heart
To shreds for you
Always.
I’m always trespassing
Encroaching
Conquering
Stripping every sin
From you iniquitous mouth
Always.
I’m always crossing
Lines, flying miles
Beyond taboo
But I begin
And end
With you
Always.

Spring Adventures

I wish I could
Pinpoint
The day
Spring came
But the Scottish Spring
Is capricious like that.
I don't know
If it came
In the sudden
Bloom of
Yellow flowers
Or the glory
Of pink trees.
Or the sharp rain
That tasted better
When shared
On your
Laughing lips.
Spring has always
Been rather dangerous.
It calls for
Backpacks,
Cheeky grins
And adventures.
Spring springs
Deeply into
Discontent
And I am
Always
Forever
Running away
Towards
The sweet, sibilant
Sounds of spring.
This spring
I didn't run.
I stayed.
Oh boy, I stayed.
And let adventure
Kiss me
On my doorstep.
Spring laughed
At my springing heart
And bluffed
Sunshine my way.
I didn't run.
I stayed.
This spring, I stayed
And let
Spring Adventures come my way.

Cliche

Cliches are so,
For a reason .
And really, babe
When the light
Catches you right
You shine
Are sublime
Like a,
What shall we call it?
Like a,
Supernova.
So that's a cliche
Yes or no?
Castle tops
Are cliches too.
Let's do it anyway
Or maybe
Because of it
Rain is cliche
But this was
A mere drizzle.
Tree list
A bit much
To the left
Lean up
Against them,
Just so.
That's cliche
Too.
But it's
The kind
I'm awfully
Partial too.
Cliches come
Riding down
In hordes
And one cliche
That's all about
How we crash and burn.
Let's shred that one
To tiny bits
And kiss
On the remains.
In a very
Cliched
Sort of a way.

Smudges and Trails

Sometimes

Times

I can’t admit

To even myself

I think of smudges

And you.

I think of deep red trails

My lips could leave

If I had the gumption

To cross over

And take, just take.

I think of smudges

Marking up

Borders and lines and territories

Precious order

That you love so much.

I think of wrecking

Red carnage on your skin.

Precious chaos

That I love so much.

I think

Of contrasts

And blood red lips

And the jut of a hip

The line of a back

And curve of a neck

An imprint of teeth

And red lipstick

Marking a temporary claim

I like such claims the best.

I think I could

Write an epic on you

Of you

With smudges and trails

And red, red lips.