These strings of guilt and lust
Just in this moment - not looking at you
I can see the things that I would love to do:
to kiss a naked shoulder,
touch and tremble - trembling lips:
my lips would never be
at home with yours.
Forever strangers,
they would meet
in moist, exotic places.
So easy, again,
to get carried away -
so Goddamn easy.
Not looking at you
I can see everything -
but let’s forget all lust.
Let us be friends.
I want you - yes,
that much is obvious:
I want you -
but I also want your trust,
for you to be at ease with me.
That’s hard - too hard
at times, I know
but I’ll keep trying.
(Things I’ll never say. Things I’ll never do…)
I’ve seen your nipples through a T-shirt.
I would not even care to touch
upon such a common observation,
but for the ease of shivering lust,
raised blood, raised hairs and me.
These are (unclean, unclean)
the unsaid and unthought things:
your eyes so amazed -
your eyes forever in awe.
I saw my praying eyes so many times
in your enlarging pupils;
your tongue, your teeth,
so fucking perfect
in their smelly, unmade bed
of breathing flesh;
your breath like waves
all over me.
(Things I’ll never say; things I’ll never do.
Things that will not matter much to you.)
Unsaid, unthought - unclean
but I know guilt.
For I still want to set my teeth
into your lower lip;
Your nipples swollen now
against my chest -
my breath, now moving
like the hull of some old ship;
your fingers crying for a tune,
hammering and groping for my flesh.
Oh yes, I know of guilt.
Not of these innocent pleasures;
not of the needful flesh
but of the hurt to others,
to your friend - to all our friends
who wouldn’t understand.
(And yet, what can I do?
I know what I must do: I must be silent.)
That is easy - easy as all sinking ships must
move beneath the waves.
Easy yes - but still I want you.
These unsaid, unthought things still haunt me.
I know the strings of guilt and lust.
Oh yes, my friend,
I do know lust.
(The picture accompanying the poem I found on this site.)