All I have time for.

Young, smooth and labile

Trusting with good intentions

Earned through confident words

Inflecting swaying candour.

Put your hands here

Down into the breath of my skin

Up into that erotic exhale

Bursts of sex, sensual feminism.

Need tugs with age

Momentous gesticulation

You had me at needing me

Settling into the middle.

Want grows into isolation

A memory of lusting prayer

Worthless loneliness

Quelling seeping shards.

Put your hands where I want them

Into those ember memories

Make them real again

Stroking the tipping clock.

Cauldrons lie awake

Glowing concoctions

Grieving hopeful waters

Breathing lighter again.

Back again

Who was she then?

Dulling prideful queen

Evoking rosey cheeks.

You know the answer

Where the water has memory

Where your feet are rooted

Where you want you.

This is all I have time for.

Morgan C. Bresko