Poem #263

You used to be this beautiful dream
I always wished to be reality.
I wanted every single motion to be real,
I wanted what my head remembered in the dark of the night
to be what my body experienced one more time.

Now I just want you to stop haunting me.

They told me you were bad for me.
I know you were bad for me.
You are that dirty little secret I keep locked in my nightstand
with my diaries and all the poetry I wrote for you.

You come to me in the shape to which my body contorted
when I would just feel you breathing down my neck.
Oh, the ways in which you would steal my reason and common sense.

There are two pairs of the most beautiful eyes looking at me
from just a little below my belly button.
A beard tickling my thighs,
hands moving from my hips, to my rib cage and further,
a gasp that made one hand go over my mouth.
The most profound sensation taking over my body,
two hands keeping down my hips so I wouldn’t twist away
from your mouth in pleasure.

Wait, I am dreaming again.

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