Triptych Part I (The First Kiss) | Poems that Suck

We lie on the rocky
              seashore,
the night sky spread
wide like an eager
              lover. 


We were talking but I
             was distracted,
our fingers were nearly
touching and I was
             electrified.


Then you slid out of
              your clothes;
I was determined not to
look at the narrow beauty
                      of you.


But I was compelled to
                  join you
in the water; a cool 
kiss on my skin in the
                   thick humidity.


You slipped beneath the still,
                      dark surface
seizing my wrist gently
to take me further out
                  to sea.
                                          (and, God, I was willing)


Then you reappeared, you hair
                     plastered to
your face, and for a wild
moment I wondered if that's what
                      Jesus looked like.


And as I tried to figure
                  this out,
I became aware that you
were slowly coming closer, 
                   and closer. 


We watched each other like
                      two battle
weary cats, projecting our
intentions so there could be
                         no mistake. 


Then you were hovering
                   above me, 
and I swallowed with difficulty,
licking my lips to prepare for
                       the inevitable. 


It began gently, as if testing
                       the waters
but, fire began roiling 
through my veins and I just...
                      let go. 


It was as if the sky
                 caught fire
and I could still see the fierce
blaze through my tightly shut 
                        eye lids. 

Devour(ed) | Poems that Suck

I wanted to paint
 a picture of your
   eyes,
     see. 

One that captured
 all the deep blue
  and the light blue
   fibers of your
     iris. 

I wanted to
 paint your pupil
  huge,
   you know, 
    like a quarter, 
     or a moon, 
       or a god-damn Buick. 

Swollen, like when
 you would whisper
  you loved me and I
   thought I could tell
    you weren't lying. 

Engorged, so large
 I could see myself
  in them and I was a 
   different
     person, 
      content with the mundane. 

Those pupils would
 swallow me, 
  devour me
   whole; 
    flesh, 
      bones.
       Everything.

And then you blinked.