Poetry

I Say No, or Perhaps

Decisions, decisions — A love poem.

Possessed.

Trapped in an alternate Universe

filled with poetry

and song

and music

and rhyme

and words — feeling words and feel-good words

Words that stir a fire

Long thought extinguished.

The whisper.

That sweet murmur of honey-laced nothings

that removes the draping of cloth and set fire to my longing.

I hear them like a warm breeze —

a zephyr,

a cool wind,

up my skirt and under my thin shirt

Like the quick hands of a deft lover.

A skilled lover, persistent, but patient.

Waiting for the maybe,

Or perhaps.

Or the yes.

Move quickly and

cool me down

with your syllables strung together like a harp

or a violin

Or any instrument that plays the sweetest notes.

Of you wanting me,

of you telling me,

of your hands making my body sway across the pages of a love story,

a symphony.

And yet as much as I want you,

I say no, or perhaps.

Coy-like, cat-like

Not wanting your words to dissipate in the wind

of spent sheets

and damp pillows.

So I say no, or perhaps.

Though my eyes are still inviting and

my body is still yearning

for the sweet breeze of your love.

Your charmed words and stiff tongue.

Lips mouthing nice words,

True words.

I say no, or perhaps.

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