Post Coitus

To observe your body wrapped in infinite shades of light. I could never distill your radiance in the indentations of your skin, the exquisite rough paper, your shades of deep brown. There are indentations I could miss easily in painting, especially on your chest.

I put my head on and listened to the cacophony of your sentiments. You think me ignorant. You think it’s just the warm brown in your eyes reflecting mine. Do you know the spindle of your irises turns grey, and your innermost evils are a transparent night accompanying me while you are away? In your eyes, all your cruel desires put out all reason you left for me to oblivion. You tell me your sins in a clinical matter as if to caution.

Your ghosts can dwell inside me for as long as you deny their existence.

May I be the medium of showing you are no more cruel than I am capable? You know I welcome you wholly in your extinguished deep gaze. I would not care for a disingenuine version of you.

It is the subtle touch of your hands, it is your honest confessions, it is all the things that have no name, but in the way you held me, locked eyes with me, expressed your complete carnal knowledge, and knew I was there on the other side, feeling you as deep in me as I could be in you.

Pure morning and this is all distant now.

The negative space of your body in the morning, the creases in your smile, I will not let them be just a work of art. The red and black scales of your snakes; They are a phantom inside me. They dwell venomous and docile. They are driving me to the madness that sometimes I trace from the fleeting memory of bites, kisses, and touches. The sickly sweet memories are more volatile than anything I could choose to drink.

But there is a possibility if my host had welcomed your demons, perhaps, when we intertwined and locked eyes and I started where you began, you could take in the truth of me.