Purple silk, soft against my skin, phone pressed to my ear like a shell,
I’m listening for the sounds of you, the sounds of the sea in your veins,
I want to hear your voice, sweet, low, soft as the silk against my skin.
I imagine you in your bed, stretched out, as comfortable against the mattress
as you would be against my body… you’re talking, and I’m listening like
it’s the first time… oh, but it is the first time. After you, nothing will be
the same, nothing will ever taste or smell or sound the way it used to.
There was the world before you, and now it feels flat and dead and dull,
as if I can hardly see how I moved through all the endless days, waiting…
waiting to hear this, your good voice, your sweet words, the sound of your
breath, the shape of your mouth… and your lips call to me like a wolf
howls at the moon, pulling my soul out of my body, stopping the clock,
making my whole self nothing but this overwhelming hunger. It is dark,
the middle of the night, the hour when the blackness turns to velvet,
when the stars shine like diamond chips in the dark blanket of the sky.
You are far away, but your voice is gentle in my bed with me. The image
of your body glows in my head, everything is in my head, everything is
possible, I may live forever. I want to please you. By pleasing you, I please
myself. Your joy is mine, I am greedy for it. And oh, the hunger. Inside me
is a magnet, collapsing the space between us. I am sucking you through wires…
and if I were there – do you wish I were there? I’d press my own shaking electric
fingers, my palms, upon your skin, first this place, then that place, searching,
reaching, touching each square inch of you, tracing your limbs with my
tongue’s thoughtless purpose; touching, rubbing, pushing, pulling, mouth open,
warm, mouth wet, soft, lips fiery, trembling, my head intoxicated with charting
and caressing the unknown territory of your sweet flesh. First, your wise,
funny mouth; your strong, stubborn teeth; your mischievous, wanton tongue.
I draw the good scent of your skin into my body for nourishment, breathing
you again and again, my chest rising, then falling, over and over, air drawn fast,
then faster; for you; because of you; simply to delight you. Then comes
the time of your neck, shoulders, arms, hands, fingers; my face an open
flower kissing you all over; my arms anchoring your warm, solid body;
my hair touching your chest, trailing slowly down your torso, your waist,
your hips, your loins, covering you like a loosely woven silk curtain.
For you; because of you; simply to delight you. All the while I caress you
with my lips, my tongue, my fingers, I tug your body closer to mine.
We feel each other’s weight, heat, firmness. As I move over you, your back
arches like a drawn bow; my lips are sweet arrows stinging; I caress your thighs,
your belly, your ass; I am greedy; I am hungry; I want this, simply to delight you.
I will say honey upon my tongue is like ashes after tasting you;
I will say I have lost myself and do not ever want to find my way home;
will say I have well-pleased the gods who created me, for this moment
and forever. I have a fire deep inside my body and will burn through
everything between us, mountains, walls, tables, chairs, clothes; just
to reach you; simply to delight you. Someday, I would like your bedroom
to be ringed with heaps of fragrant white flowers — frangipani, gardenia,
honeysuckle, hyacinth, jasmine, lily of the valley, magnolia, narcissus, rose.
The thick, sweet scent will make you relaxed, sleepy, and perhaps then
you will know how easy it is to surrender….
One response to “Honey Upon My Tongue, a poem”
WOW! I wish I was the recipient of this poem! Keep writing! Tony D. ps- if I was, it would be reciprocal.