Circles

My poems aren't for everyone  
Their mostly just for me  
They're how I breath  
 
*  
 
What is it about women  
That knackers me  
Weathered as a dream  
Half forgotten in waking  
But longed for to be  
Cat to my dog  
Venus to my Mars  
Do we circle or orbit  
So near, yet so far  
 
I long to touch every inch of you  
Rough hands on soft skin  
Man handled  
Hair clenched in my fist  
Head yanked back  
As I devour your face, your lips, your neck  
Free handedly groping  
No subtlety In the telling what I'd do with you  
Pinned to the wall  
Pushed over a chair or pulled to the floor  
 
Cerebral  
Has a mind  
Dangerous as Russian roulette  
 
Lethal  
(Especially in heels)  
 
Unafraid to be the creation she is  
Fragile, tender  
Bending not breaking  
 
Haunting me  
But leaving room to breathe  
Able to stand on her own  
Not afraid to be close  
To unfold her heart of hearts  
To mine  
 
Perhaps with time  
 
I long for such time