Love-Making

The last time love was made, it was unreal, beautiful, mind-blowing; safe to say, this man was hooked. You coulda been cuffed right there on the spot, and taken to the authorities to be finger-printed and booked. There's no doubt you're the one who served as a reminder of how love is truly made, and if I had to rate it on a scale, there's no doubt you'd get the highest possible grade...

They say good things come to those who wait, and that's exactly what we did. The temptation to do more never overruled the importance of waiting until the time was right, and once it came, the acts were so intoxicating, we were at it from dark all the way to daylight.

Our souls came together as one, as slow jams moved to OUR BEAT, and not the other way around. Our bodies were in sync, with ruffled sheets, infrequent moans, and the fan above us contributing to the sound. It was void of lust, yet filled with passion. Not since then has anything remotely come close, in no particular form or fashion. We'd be drenched by each other's thoughts, and washed with our words; we'd rinse off with laughter, and dry off using the smiles we were able to lure...hell, I can't even look at showers the same! 'Cause ever since then, whether it's the face wash, shampoo, or the soap, whenever I step in, all the bottles spell out your name...

7/28/09 @ 3:23 A.M.

Photo by Thomas Hopson

Insomnia's Kryptonite

Next time's gonna be different; what was accomplished last time was far from simple. The next acts are gonna be relentless, with the waves coming between your legs causing much more than a quiet ripple. Your insomnia's gonna be a thing of the past, after you get done fuckin' with me. The images of our bodies submerged as one will be the last ones you'll remember, as you slowly approach your sleep.

If nights are spent watching the sun rise, the same ones are gonna consist of my tongue dancin' around smoothly, before bein' buried deep between your thighs...we'll go so long and hard, the neighbors above us are gonna hear your cries...and by the time my manhood reaches your womanhood, we'll both experience the power and sheer beauty of insomnia's kryptonite.

Times before were merely a tune-up for something we both already know. There's no need for you to worry or, bring anything extra; all you gotta do...

...is show.

7/16/09 @ 12:07 A.M.

Photo by Thomas Hopson

Good, Bad, and Indifferent: Fuck It No More

The last thing anyone can do is give a man ample time to think; when it occurs, things, events, and words find a way to converge and perfectly link...and it came to this particular truth. The train didn't stop, because I slammed on the brakes. It came to a halt, because the journey became way too much for you to take.

It all makes sense now; it's never been about me, because there's no sign of this man being confused. Sure, it may cross your mind on occasion, but my soul's been the one that's been battered and abused.

Expressing these thoughts won't change a thing; it's not gonna bring those times back. It'll just continue to make me look like a fool, especially since your train seems to be running smooth now, and totally on track. More power to ya, and it's time for me to go ahead, and follow right along. It's time to compose a brand-new verse, and stop singin' the same old song.

7/10/09 @ 5:34 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Just Thinkin' About You/Hope All Has Been Well

It's amazing how a simple message can set off a deeper emotion. It's exactly why, in this case, it's hard for me to subscribe to this particular type of notion. We know each other well enough to realize it isn't a quick check-up, or just to drop some kind words. Once those words have been exchanged, the door will soon open, and into it, we've both been lured...

But maybe it was just that; a quick check-up, and nothing more. Then again, there was date number one, two, three, and even number four. There was Barnes and Noble, and Half Price Books, on a Saturday night at that. A couple of chairs and the occasional foot-stool is where we sat. It was definitely a first, and a story we didn't have to wait for time to tell. It's instances like these that'll trigger a simple message that I'm...

...just thinkin' about you/hope all has been well.

Books were read together, word-for-word, and we'd soon discuss what we saw. Then we'd go find the movie version, and get pissed when the script and the author weren't on the same page at all. To share that kind of connection was unique, something I enjoyed all too well. It's instances like those which trigger the simple message that I'm...

...just thinkin' about you/hope all has been well.

We laughed when he was poplockin' on stage, but remained captivated as he went through song-after-song. Then he came in the crowd and held his tune, while we grooved and sung right along. The same couldn't be said about the dudes servin' food over at Spring Creek. It was pretty much agreed that if they were to take their act on the road, there's no way it would even last a week. Plenty of other events were shared, but I think you get the drift. And through it all, time spent with you was the most priceless type of gift. It's safe to say a simple gesture has always been much more, and this, you can plainly tell. And even though things have changed, this one remains a fixture, when the message comes across that reads...

...just thinkin' about you/hope all has been well.

7/1/09 @ 1:15 A.M.

Photo by Collins Metu