Window Pane



Window Pane


Such cruelty,

Tantalizing toy in the window pane

and my pockets empty-

Time ran out of change to pay for a stock

in your heart of gold, and I go insane

when inside my mind I can almost taste

your delightful treats

while dying of hunger enchanted and dazed.

I can’t hardly stare if could only knock

and you look my way,

but this life so cruel and won’t let me play

only stare in wonder at the window pane-


“But all these were things he could not want, because they were things he could not have, and wanting what you could not have led to misery and madness.”

― Cassandra Clare





Shifting oceans of your body send me adrift

with every touch and kiss I could be lost

guided only by the stars in your eyes-

My desires look for shores on your skin

solitary islands to hide myself away-

I dream of being in your arms tossed

into the fiery waves of wild desires,

a perfect place to be your castaway-


Before I Met You


Before I Met You


I dreamt of you before I met you

of pale white skin and thick full thighs

I dreamt of blue trapped in your eyes

and lost control around the curve

your lips would draw into a smile

the subtle laugh I much admired

that make me wish I could preserve

my dreams of you before I met you.




“Hold fast to dreams,

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird,

That cannot fly.”

― Langston Hughes







With a stroke of my pen I create thee

casting your image as I alone can see,

Ink outlining the softness of your face

in a perfect sight of beauty and grace,

Letters carved out of flawless dreams

describing with rich detail the gleams

emanating from the stars in your eyes,

with a stroke of my pen I give you life.






Your beauty in the garden of Eden

an apple, red and tempting

my slithering desires-

Blindness the only cure

for eyes that follow every cadence

of your hips,

glamorous lure

condemning my soul to hell

forever lost in red lips

and skin God created to incite,

in sin eternally lost with every bite-






In the eve of winter I crave for storms to reach

my silent nights, made for others seeking peace.

But I seek your passion, raw, untamed

as a winter storm, to reclaim

a place on your back,

wedge between your burning thighs,

eager fingers gasping for flesh inflamed

with pent up fires.

And you become my storm

in winter’s eve trapped in a heated summer

fed by a stream of desires-






But to dream becomes an addiction

and escape from my reality, vague desires

seeking refuge on the contour of your lips

which I slowly trace at night-

And I become a slave in time

of my wants and hidden emotions,

stuck with my lifelong notions

that love must be real, and it might

appear anytime,

that skin deserves to be touched

while mine eager and alone

awaits for your fingertips to find.

So I dream with every breath I take

feeding the need to escape

my reality, and lost in the rush

of a moment, I dream you mine.