- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Ready to spill
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A sweaty collar
and pounded chest
taught me to purse my lips
and hold my breath
Inside
I never knew what was coming
though I must admit
I taught myself not to run
or rather, it was fear
that held me fast
Outside, all seemed beautiful
and when I tiptoed amongst the flowers
I dared whisper
quiet confessions to them
The ones who listened
became my confidants;
soft petals to ponder
while pinched thoughts spilled off my tongue
I always wanted this to be with him
who beat my heart
slower, quieter, a bit more subdued,
the exact opposite of what I’d hoped he would do
Some will say I am wicked
because I come alive elsewhere.
When the sweet flowers invite
I am cushioned by meadow grass
I say it is nature
and karma at its best
no tongue can hold forever
from the alluring taste of comradeship
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