Frances Macaulay Forde
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.
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Topic of this poem: love
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Comments about this poem (Computer Messenger by Frances Macaulay Forde )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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