Cherished and Desired (Retitled: Cherished Wine)

Revised:

I like the way you taste my name;
let it spread across your tongue,
roll it side to side and aspirate
its flavour in a slow puff
of breath that seduces
my ear to surrender
like a soldier
in a lost war.

I like the way you drink in my voice;
let it slide slowly down your throat
to caress and warm your neck
like a muffler and then let it
settle in your chest before
it stirs into the stomach
and entices you
to sigh.

First draft:

I like the way you taste my name;
let it spread across your tongue,
roll it side to side and aspirate
its flavour in a slow puff
of breath that seduces
my ear to surrender
like a soldier
in a lost war.

I like the way you drink in my voice;
let it slide slowly down your throat
to caress and warm your neck
like a muffler and then let it
settle in your chest before
it stirs into the stomach
and entices you
to sigh.

I like the way you make me feel
like a full-bodied wine,
cherished and desired.

Bare

Revised:

The museum is silent
except for the sound
of exhibits not breathing,
of a mummy not unwrapping itself,
of dinosaurs’ bones not creaking,
of birds not flapping their wings,
of bugs not crawling
and of emptiness not hissing at you.

Our house is bare
except for the collection
of things untouched,
of lights not turned on,
of doors not unlocked,
of sofa not sat on,
of cupboards not opened
and of thoughts not thrown away.

First draft:

The museum is silent
except for the sound
of exhibits not breathing,
of a mummy not unwrapping itself,
of dinosaurs’ bones not creaking,
of birds not flapping their wings,
of bugs not crawling
and of emptiness not hissing at you.

Our house is bare
except for the collection
of things untouched,
of lights not turned on,
of doors not unlocked,
of sofa not sat on,
of cupboards not opened
and of mind not emptied of thoughts.

Myth or Truth?

I am a fish in a glass bowl,
long dead but I still have to
dance to your symphony
each time you pipe
the flute, each time
my mail box clinks.

I am an ostrich without
its head; my mind lost
in the sand each time
you draw a magnet
across my lips
to make it pucker in a kiss.

I am a unicorn, myth or truth,
now extinct but tease
to life by your breath
because you never know
I am dead.

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Note: This one should undergo a major revision but I'm not sure how I should go about it. I think I'll workshop this at PFFA.

An Art

Your brush shimmers
a tantalizing glow
on the neck, tickles
as it reaches the curve
of the belly
and your fingertip
dots the button.

You line the hips
with a soft stroke
and texture tissues
with vibrant colours
exploding
into scores of symphony.

You paint like Picasso,
intoxicating with your touch.

Sevenling (Crossroad)

After our road show, we had a nightcap
at the Hard Rock Cafe, watched the dancing fountain
and shopped for souvenirs at the mall.

A jostle hugged us closer, my cheek touching
his jacket and his arm brushing against my sweater,
as our scents mingled in my scarf,

until we reached a crossroad.

Choices

Revised:

Threads of haze weave
into my mind as your voice kisses
my ear and small talk tumbles out
of my mouth like a badly sung song.
My coward eyes inspect
the dust on my shoes
as your eyes touch my hair,
and my cheek burns with knowledge
that your lips are just an inch away.
And I have to greet an alien
who has come back to invade
my blood and threaten
to contaminate
my whole being again.

I have no choice
because I don't mind
that you are standing too close.

First draft:

Threads of haze weave
into my mind as your voice kisses
my ear and small talk tumbles out
of my mouth like a badly sung song.
My eyes are too coward to hold
your gaze so they choose
to inspect for dust on my shoes.
And when your eyes touch my hair,
my cheek knows that your lips
are just an inch away.
And I have to greet an alien
who has come back to invade
my blood and threaten
to contaminate
my whole being again.

I have no choice
because I don't mind
that you are standing too close.

Our Song

Today you showed me a blue moon
and took over my life. I want you
to look into my eyes and hear
the things I could not say out loud.
Please do not forget this sweetness.
Yes, remember this sweetness, this moment,
our moment in this semi-darkness
as we drink in our closeness, today.

Chorus:
You gave me the answer, a reason to walk this fantasy.
If only, if only, life is as simple as a child’s game,
then it’s our game and we can reach reality.
Stand strong, stand strong, this can be our song.

Today you showed me a blue moon
and your eyes told me I am your jewel,
and you are the gold binding us together;
and man enough to walk beside me.
Please do not forget this feeling.
Yes, remember your feeling, this feeling,
that we’re not on a plane in transit
but living in the cosiness of this lift, today.

Shoes With No Feet

You were my legs when I had none.
My feet are now bare and aching.
Where are my sandals, that shiny
gold and white, those wings
of a butterfly like a tattoo
on the curve of my ankle
to the tips of my toes?

My mobile remains attach
to the plug on the wall,
missing the hands that uncurl
its wire and ignite it with fire.
I am now my own chauffeur,
maid and butler; rolled into a single
dough to be punched down
before the bake.

And I drive while I sleep,
mock by spiders climbing
up my neck and into my brain.
I can hear them laugh as I weave
a yarn in another dimension
and cars zoom past an inch away.
Their web, that black sheet of sky
presses on my life
until I have no feet.