My lover loved me / And I love the lover who loved me

 

My lover loved me

more than I was able

to, and do me a favour,

colourful world,

tell her I still love her so much more

than she can ever imagine any more,

and this is my world.

 

 

I love my lover

more than ever I have loved

with, and against and inside,

and that pushing of sex,

and that teasing of teeth,

and that nibbling, that nibbling, that

nibble of love: that glory-filled sweetly boiled

 

wonder of life!

And it spills over and over, as surely it must:

when two people like you and me

come together in ecstasy: the ecstasy of

daily life lived in sex: but sex as a means not an

end of a member: sex as a tool not a device to

fondly fondle: sex as a way of manifesting

 

a love, so grand and pumping and beating and

strong … that no one I know can ever say it’s wrong.

And so finally it’s just the two of us sat in this boat;

partially capsized now by my tremendous impatience;

that silence from your side;

a bemusement from mine;

and all I can imagine is your face against my face.

 

And my face against your sex, burrowing down

like some mime of clownish instincts:

the playfulness of love and life and sex, and

a curious sur-

prise that the sun bestows on all of us who care to

listen, and sound out the truth, and resound with

our fear and fun this fact – this goddamn FACT! –

 

that we must be won!

And signed.

And sealed.

 

And de-

live-

red

 

2 thoughts on “My lover loved me / And I love the lover who loved me

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