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Banter that backfired because
literal interpretations got lost
in considered connotations,
(re-read a thousand times)
of what went way-back-when…
Juxtaposition of judgements.
Hastily harnessed how-comes?
Stopping me still, seriously!
Making me question us both.
My passionate banshee tears
initiated by tactile responses
to words type-tapped carefully.
Sometimes in casual jest
to test my reactions?
Is it natural to anticipate
disaster - dismissal and defend?
Not normally for me – I search
for more of your positive essence,
confirmation of my impressions.
I want you – all of you – now!
Every nuance of normality
shared secretly, sensually…
But other stuff too – thoughts,
reasons, why you do what you do…
I can’t ‘see’ the whole of you
touch your skin - breath you in.
Sense your hands on my breasts
holding me, stroking me softly.
I want – I need – I crave to.
Insecurity inserts itself
firmly forcing doubt-feelings
to well and grow without witness,
until you answer; you calm; you claim,
cover my heart and soul with caring.
Linger in my love, lay there
until we’re both sweetly exhausted
by this power, this perpetual passion
Frances Macaulay Forde
Read poems about / on: passion, sometimes, power, lost
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