Drawbridge II
His eyes were saturated like wet, rich soil
Dark brown depths with soft life inside
Soft like a perfectly bruised lime rind
And his shoulders guarded like two quiet knights
While the skin over his ribs barely insulated
The vast blue beating ocean heart inside it.
This was the way I saw him, sitting there...
Pensively searching for something inside himself
Arms crossed over like swords across locked doors
While poetry exuded like a wild mischievous ghost
Silently wording to me heavy, ominous languages.
He sat there completely unbeknownst to this talk
And it drew me in and shut me up tight inside him
The warmth I felt made the lion inside me quiet
Quiet but quaking with a maddening desire to kiss
To feel the soft petal ridge of his parting lips
