1.)

I love the simplicity of him / his slow reactions / his beastly gaze / the sincerity of his desire / even in his poetry he remains unscathed / my patron saint / my burning incense / early morning / erect in my hand / late night softness cradled on my back / breasts splayed on his bare chest / feet curled between his hand /
I smell of lotus bloom / he smells of sweat and cigarettes / his mouth / a tiny current of everything he refuses to say

2.)

I’ve considered stealing a cat before, plucking it from its yard as it sunbathed—loving it like one loves things that can’t understand you—/instead, I choose men who need me, but don’t want me// who love me but don’t like me—/the strays/ the inconsiderates// the “this’ll do’s” because trying ain’t an option— it’s fine, that’ll do for me too// it’s all a game of passing the time// a game of love given to every wrong part// a territorial piss in the mouth—but love isn’t spoken of unless you’re falling into it// no one talks about the pain of looking at a face you’d once have killed for, and turning it into indifference//turning it into a stranger//turning it into no reflection// just turning and turning and turning until all that’s left is a memory and a death //