You are Arthur Fonzarelli
leaned up against a jukebox that won’t play without a back fist.
You’re James Dean
lighting a cigarette and the entire world on fire
with one raised eyebrow and no interest.
You are Bette Davis
toying with light and rousing daydreams
every time you shift your line of sight.
You’re Sophia Loren in red
and a long cool woman in a black dress
that inspired all of classic rock.
You are Eartha Kitt
purring every spoken word
without even rolling your tongue.
You’re every sex symbol that lived.
You are the guitar riff that makes me want to pick up an instrument
and the hook in all my favorite songs
I hold my breath waiting to sing.
You’re the beat that rocks my head
and moves my hand to crank up the volume.
You are the curiosity that kills
and the impulse that drives debt.
You’re the momentum that starts riots and revolutions,
then candlelit vigils in remorse.
You are the dragon addicts chase to death
and the rabbit hole that looks like a cold pool
on the hottest day of summer
without a single thought ahead of jumping in.
You’re the breath of life I needed to regain focus
and the only muse strong enough to power forward
when all I wanted was to sit out.
You are the palpable fear
that works my sweat glands like swift motion
and makes my heartbeat more audible
the closer you come.
You’re a draught in my throat
I swallow like a pack of quarters
every time you enter the room
like a boy pushing into a virgin
with all his hardened thoughts
holding, holding, before spilling and turning soft too soon.
You are every type of penetration possible without a man
and every fantasy that’s funded batteries.
You’re magnetism without an accountable force,
witchcraft with no reversible spell.
You are ecstasy ingested,
making me feel the full impact of everything I touch,
wishing it was some part of your anatomy I could brush against.
You smile or glance at me from the corner of your eyes
and I am at your disposal like a small animal or unpaid servant.
You’re the knot in my stomach and core of my appetite.
You are the spring in my step and ghost of my highest expectations
that will resort to violence before being forgotten.
You are every woman
I have ever loved, lost or wanted. _________________ shemovesme.wordpress.com
Thu Aug 25, 2011 8:20 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Oh...tell it like it IS, sister!
Reading your words Brach make me wish someone felt like that about me.
Hugz, MG _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
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