Poets are pirates for your love. Writers and theives at your finger tips and between your thighs.
Let me steal you…
I feel the way you half-bite your bottom lip, and look up from the screen to see if anyone is listening to the words…
…no, exhale, keep reading…
You twist your hair between your first finger and your thumb, and smile…inside… and pull your knees up in your own private island on the sofa under your blanket in the flickering light.
Pirates and lovers lost and imagined and nothing but those old blue jeans you slept in once upon a time, before you knew better.
Come with me my love,
close your eyes,
listen to the pale blue,
memories and reminders
of the unrequited
dreams you are afraid to speak…come with me
and taste the words