Garage-style thought. Rough, ready, dirty.
Kicking an old mattress.
A rocky heart-gazing, caught sideways,
so I continue to misbehave.
Outbursts and wildness in hopes I will be disciplined.
He is careful, I understand.
I am not.
Reckless and craving the waves of wish for wet and more.
His stern sweat falls from eyes locked,
force for more. Always more.
My heart rush wash of yes,
sheepish and wild.
I do not want to burn up what I love.
The candles are soft and satisfied with their low gleaming.
I am praying for that satisfaction.
I forgive myself for having these wishes,
committed and crazed.
Photograph by Sequoia Emmanuelle