Why am I drawn to your writing?

I’m not sure myself.

 Is it because I can see the damage and every word

Or is it that I can see you 

See, you get so engulfed in every word 

To make your point come across?

It’s my own form of voyeurism. 

You’re so open in a different way.

Do you pull your hair and get aggravated 

When you can’t get the right words

Or when you’re writing something salacious, 

do you put the phone down? So no one can see? 

Maybe you could close the book. When you feel, 

your ears are turning red from what your mind created 

To see the human body and all its splendor on the outside.

 Is deliciousI 

I will not deny that

But to see what’s inside the mind is so damn sexy.

I like to watch as you toil around thoughts

.And then present it to me

Do you give secret notes away?

I’m a greedy bitch

Is it wrong for my beast to stir when you do

As I read the pulse in my neck begins to beat fast

Breathing air is difficult

When did air become thick

I feel my heart start to stutter

Not realizing I stop breathing altogether

It’s a drug, the words

Sweet then dangerous

A tender kiss to open one up

Then the moment a moan escapes

The world slips away

It’s just the words

The ache

The  need

Half-hooded eyes

Blown pupils

Inner heat

Created by the poet

When it all comes to an end

I’m left with the tremors

I’ll wait until the next

Poetic piece

The question is…

When can I …

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