i remember the first time we made love
it was exactly two years ago
a colonizing moment is what i'd called it
that was the first time i'd let you
or anyone for that matter
fuck me enter me penetrate me
colonize me colonize my body colonize my soul
(colonize my love?)
you entered me with with a lack of might
your lack of conviction pinned me down
with the softness of your arms and the strength of your skin
you swayed on top of me
like a cherry shaking in fear
shaky shaky shaky
scared scared scared
of sliding off the top of this mount of melting cream
i wanted to scream scream scream at you
and beg beg beg you
to hurt me
to plant your seed deeper in me
i often think of power dynamics
but not in an academic foucaultian way
i think of the thin line between love and hate
the thin line between pleasure and pain
on that day I saw myself in your eyes
in fragments
detached and yet attached
deeply rooted in a disturbed mirror
i think of your heat inside me
i think of it as a loving moment
i think of it as a colonizing moment
i think of it as an orgasm an orgasm an orgasm
an orgasm that never came
i know it's been two years and yet
i go from ghost town to ghost town
i travel and i yearn
like a corpse that didn't get buried
i think of your hair between my teeth,
(you remember your hair between my teeth?)
i think of the mess we created,
the havoc of cum and lube we smudged in between our sticky bodies
i think of the violence with which i bit your nipples
the loving ways in which you clamped my ears
i think of power dynamics not just in an academic foucaultian way
i remember the first time we made love
it was exactly two years ago
i had wrapped myself in your skin
i remember the first time we made love
it was exactly two years ago
you had graciously unwrapped my love gift skin
i remember the wetness
i yearn for the love
i remember the warmth
i yearn for the harm
but above all
i yearn for the white cock that colonized my black body
2 comments:
Let me offer an insightful-less comment - both as a response to this poem and as a reminder that somebody out there is actually reading what you write on here and loves everything that he sees.
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Thank you for this poem. For it vitality, its movement, and its sex. It is warm, hot, sticky - and all the better for it.
I look forward to having an anniversary of this sort.
Yei! Somebody actually reads my blog!! (And I don't even have to bribe you with beer!!)
I'm glad you liked the poem. Thanks, Neal!
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