I never considered myself to be a “love poet”
I mean,
I don’t write about candle lit dinners
or romantic getaways
or massages
or toe curling sex on the roof top of my humble abode
nestled just underneath the moon
lit only by the North star
where the only breeze
is generated by our bodies
clenched tightly,
thrusting to synchronized rhythms
drenched in juices that rise high
like ocean tides
and slap
against our shore
like tsunamis
caused by the quake
of our back breaking technique
followed by chills
as your waves recede

I never considered myself to be a “love poet”
because, when I’m with you
It’s not making love
It’s not poetry
it’s breathing
you are the oxygen
feeding the flame of my life
a nipple
providing nourishment
for my hungry lips
you are my heart
pumping dreams
through my veins and into existence
you are
the salvation of my soul

..and there’s no time to waste
writing silly poems
about love
when you’re living it..