Once I was content
with your placid thoughts
and the
quiet flame
of existence
between us
Now
I want you to think
that -everything
I say
is funny or beautiful,
that my hair
is your sun,
my eyes
your moon,
my breasts
your pillows,
my stomach
your divan
that I taste
like honey,
smell like orange blossoms,
and I am
the ambrosia
to your apathy
I am ready
to warm our hands
by the fire of possibility.
3 comments:
I love the elemental feel of the beauty in this painting, and your words, I can read your heart in them. Thank you, Venus, for sharing yourself in such a lovely and artful way.
I feel this way sometimes. I think we all yearn for this brand of adoration.
thank you sweet Jenn, for your always positive affirmations. I think when you have been adored this way - it makes ordinariness hard to settle for afterwards.
You are incredibly lucky if you have experienced this level of adoration. I do believe it is rare. I have been extremely well-loved, and am even now, but I don't know that I would ever be comfortable being adored at the level you express in your poem. Perhaps that is only because it hasn't happened. We all deserve it, though. Still, it is a gift.
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