Her legs, Her Face Are the Sun

Her legs, Her Face Are the Sun


I woke up and it was light her legs were wrapped around
my knees.

She couldn’t reach my feet with her feet because she was short
and I was tall.
Her skin was so hot in the morning she did this thing, still half asleep
she took off her nightgown and pressed her bare naked back
against my face.

She moved her hair away from her neck spread it on the pillow
like flowers long, black flowers her ribcage was full of flowers too
and then she would leave me there.

With my head in the middle of the pillow smelling her hair she smells like seaweed sweetness sometimes salt and I run my hands through her body and she purrs like a cat bending her lean spine
against my fingers.

There are flowers between her strong legs there is nothing modest about the way she spreads them in front of my face her garden is sweet.

Heavy and she would make me tired sometimes three times in a row
her sweat soaked up by my shirt after all that she would sleep in my hand like a curled up rose.

As she’d be mine for all the days and nights and nothing would matter as she would love the child

The boy

The man in me

I would kiss the purple bruises on her translucent soul she would dress the wounds in my head kiss my feet rub the fears away with a pair of brown eyes and I would rise up from her bed.
 
To spill water over the carpet and her gentle laugh would ring in my ears like the summer’s rain on a window seat.
I gamble sometimes not very often
 
But often enough to screw up my life from time to time sometimes
I even manage to screw someone else’s soul.

Just to stop everything grapes falling out of her mouth and the moans so I thought.
 
I am going to walk out on her first

I wanted to be righteous but all I could smell was my own fear and the flowers that I ripped out of her heart when her wet face tried to hide in my hand.
She was inside my eyes each morning and I was inside her each night
yet when the time came to look her in the eyes I ran.
So I left few photographs on her bed me sitting in underwear
and a shirt on another woman’s messy bed.
 
You could hear her laughter in the background and her hands were reaching towards my face to caress it but I laughed too and I left her a photograph of me on the other woman’s sofa with bits of my naked arms and chest.
 
Poking from underneath the white duvet she was talking to me and I laughed to myself sorrow, she must have felt it and good I laid down on my bed and it rained on me and on my face that she once called beautiful on my head .


That she once touched to ease my aching I remembered when she cried.

When I made love to her in white bed sheets scattered with wild flowers she loved me.
I stayed here surviving in this house going to another one that other one riding my bicycle in the rain all over the town.

She was taking pictures cooking chicken soup eating vegetables surviving my killed bird and I am good at killing.
I did not wanted to listen to her so she looked at me with big brown eyes full of rain she looked at me like only a woman in love cannot some woman but your woman.
 
That picks up your clothes scattered all over the bedroom and brings you eggs for breakfast a woman that will stand by your side holding your hand like a child.
 
And sleep in the legs of your bed and then you don’t believe her
because you’re a dumb fool thinking that you’re the only one
that knows something anything anywhere.
One time in your life there comes a woman that sinks into your body
like the sweet afternoon sweat brought to you by summer she resides on your skin.

And you sit there and watch the bits of that sweat filling out your shirt and down your trousers some days you don’t see anything
because the sweat gets into your eyes and mouth too, or ears
it fills you in.

She coos over you like you’re a wounded bird fallen out of its nest
and you don’t see it that she was yours all along she kisses the top of your nose with her mouth and it’s good.
And she makes you laugh and it’s good too you can be weak with her
soft like a newborn kitten and God damn it she boils your blood but then you feel life and the heat of that blood and it’s good again her head falls asleep in the middle of your chest and it’s good.

She makes love to you and it’s beyond the good so good that it ruins
you.

Then you wake up thinking that she came back but she didn’t
it’s just your shadow of a dog you want to think that it was the life
that played this game on you but it wasn’t life it was you.

OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE


By nutbuster