Here is where
I was told ,
This spark that we were not supposed to light a fire meets its end.
Two naked bodies,
Spread and spent on a mahogany bed.
Breathing heavily ,
Sweating ,
High from a pill most call love.
If you part the curtains though,
And look past our moans and trembling bodies,
You will notice two hungry disappointed souls,
That did not find what they were looking for.
I have spent a thousand years running ,
From the fact that my parents left while I was only seven.
And I am scared I still miss
My mother's buttermilk pancakes,
How my father would come back home with a kilo of meat every Friday night.
So how he kisses my brains out,
And makes me forget for a while
Is why I keep coming back on this Mahogany bed.
And he,
He is sheltering himself,
From the ever pregnant clouds of the
Society that keeps raining and
mudding on his man ego.
So how I ask him to give it to me harder,
How I look into his eyes like it's the only topography I can see,
How I hold on to him before I fall apart,
How i need him and let him know I need him,
Is why his hormones lead him here.
So here ,
On this Mahogany bed,
We both hope to forget we are shitty scared,
Here we hope to be enough ,
We hope to find our peace in our now silent panting.
Here we hope tomorrow when it gets heavy,
We won't find ourselves tumbling
On the same mahogany bed.
We can only hope,
We will shed our skin,
Face our truths,
And be tough.
Each for their own self.