me, you and vagina

 
 
okay fair enough  
you hated my metaphors
in the last poem purely
from a physical point of view  
   
for a change have locked
my obsession for    
the metaphysical  
   
for a change i say    
but a damn good one  
   
speaking of metaphors    
you loathed that i minimized
your physical existence    
to words    
   
just words    
vain deaf sounds    
that would mean nothing    
if one wanted them to  
   
fair enough  
   
i love your vagina  
   
last time i had written    
sacred cave    
   
and before that    
   
core  
   
altar  
   
honestly i would hate to be reduced to    
an atavistic cliche of my own image  
   
damn i love your vagina  
   
the first time we had met  
a liquid portal from my innards  
had lurched out trying to pry and probe    
every time you uncrossed your legs    
only to cross again  
   
that night we did not fuck  
   
you got drunk barely able to walk  
   
i hate that kind of power  
   
so i was a gentleman and left you  
in the safety of your bed  
   
okay had kissed you a tad long  
had an urge to grab a piece of ice  
run it across your cleavage  
then may be turn you down  
and take you from behind  
while you dwelt upon    
painpleasuredreamreality  
   
but withheld myself then    
though hated it later  
   
made love a week later  
it made you cry    
i could not reach my orgasm    
it was may be the stress    
   
swear there were no    
pills herbs anything  
   
still had a hard on when reached home    
   
was applying ice when you called    
and that was a moment every    
poet artist lover    
craves  
   
would take a man to know what pain
it caused as i ran in that heightened state  
reached there in ten minutes  
   
will be always sorry that    
   
we broke    
   
the aquarium    
the turkish vase  
small curios  
   
that i broke  
   
but was just a man that night    
who thrashed and flailed as you    
sat and brushed    
dripping into my mouth    
   
smelling like    
cinnamon    
   
next day  
all i remember is waking in
the sun to watch you with half shut
eyes seated atop me    

i was so sore did not feel
a thing

fair enough
   
an empress      
you were slowly turning    
with each contour your face would change    
all furrows smiles    
   
had you not hidden your breasts    
i would have gone    
the other side  
   
for a week my tongue tasted like    
cinnamon  
   
since then i have truly loved    
   
your vagina  
   
and you  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
for.her.