Composite of contradictions

Things are as they always were
we sit at two ends of one room
teasing each other
with tickles at the weak spot
jesting just enough
to get under the skin
but never crawling so deep
as to upset
the evening

Your impish smile
across the dinner table
is the hand
that draws me home
and my bony shoulder
remains yours to lean on

We speak less
but say more
benefiting from
the silent comforts
of shared history
without the burden
of definition

Then say goodbye
skipping dessert
but that’s alright cos
I will always love you
and I haven’t yet

Lemon grass

Laying in the lemon grass
I find myself wondering:
were you to hold me
but for a moment
in your closeness
as a woman
and whisper to me
through citrus lips
of a forest of tickles...
were you to brush my hair
in secret
and run orange seeds
playfully 'long my chest
hiding worlds
between my ribs...
were you to rest your cheek
on the small of my back
such that your breath
caressed my spine
as you eavesdropped
on my heartbeat
racing against hours
peeling away...

I wonder
if you would not briefly
return to me
dreams once lost...

Tendrils

There must be things about you, woman, that
heaven itself covets, bright jagged bits
I should recognize from angels like you:
never one colour for too long, so to
know my way round your impetuous edges
is to step into the heart of a flame
not unafraid but incapable of
getting away from the fascination...

Or are you some new voodoo yet untried?
For how else could a girl have pearls for eyes?

Visions of hidden treasures spring to life
in the undercurrents of time spent
counting the hours between now and you
knowing what damage my rough hands can do
yet I seek the tenderness of tendrils...