I tried to reason with my heart
but nothing works,
not even shopping or sedatives
not even noise or sleep.
You are branded
onto the future
that shows its leery face
on nights when my needs
curl up in bed to sleep
threatening my emotions
with permanence,
warning them they will be
shaped forever
by the mold of you.

How carelessly
I have let you enter me.
How ashamed
my pliant sensibilities
ought to be
with the way
they just spread their
creamy thighs
to accommodate
the full-bodied pleasure
of the way you understood me.
How I should have
been sooner made aware
that the well-meaning letter
you’ve written
and slid effortlessly
through the thin slit
of my woman’s mailbox
would be impossible to extract
without the key—
and only God knows now
where that key is

I tried looking for it
in deprivation and in luxury
in preoccupation and in meditation
but nothing works,

This is me throwing caution to the wind.
This is me learning to dance in the rain.
This is me stopping to smell the roses.
This is me finally conceding
that I no longer possess the power
to stay away from you