Your essence nestled snug on my bed, a smile
emblazoned upon your gorgeous face.
I meet your eyes and stare dreamlike into them,
our iris’ dancing like lovers.
My mind flew miles a minute, as I’m sure
Yours did as well, and yet
amongst all values, we both peered into
each other hesitant.
I know I was insistent, trying to beat a situation I
completely knew was unbeatable, and yet
I ingested my protocol like a bitter-sweet pill
and became the lion you told me I was.
You pushed me back, down three rungs of the ladder,
if you will, but I in turn did the same, moving up four.
You slowly gave, my temptress, but surely
the ideas of your personal valor, virtue, and ambition
kept me truly from hitting the ground running.
You became my affection, if not but for just that specific
moment, and you became my addiction.
Your skin in the palm of my hand was satin.
Your hair falling on my chest was silk.
Your eyes were the work of Renaissance porcelain.
You were intoxication to me.
Interspersed between the sexuality and primal emotion
rampaging through us was the realization that
all things must come to an end.
You entered your chariot and headed off into the night,
leaving me to observe your departure.
You weren’t selfish on this hallowed January night.
You became my mind.
Tell me, what did you see when
you looked into the eyes of a stranger?