I'm bad with titles.

How many licks does it take to get
to the center of your insatiable satisfaction?
I’ve nibbled and sucked at your layers of resistance,
I’d say my appetite is clear proof of true attraction.
You’ve questioned my ability to maintain sincere interest,
you say it only exists when your legs spread asunder.
I’ve assured you your mind is what keeps me in this
there isn’t a single piece of you that I seek to plunder.

Your body is a temple and I’m merely a traveller
in awe of the beauty that you constantly unfold.
I do not seek to reveal any buried treasure
I’d rather be the chest that encompasses your gold.
Let. Me. In.


-S. J. Washington 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

As you press your sweet finesse against my chest
giving rise to sentiments that I can only express
with an ambience full of benevolence and tenderness,
I give you my energy.

To be encompassed by your bright essence
I am overcome with intense fondness for your experience
left speechless, by the warmth of your existence
I don’t want to loosen my grip.

Me, in your arms, for just a few seconds
and you in mine, time feels timeless
I can only hope that every nexus,  
every beautiful embrace for every subsequent moment
carries a resemblance
to this.




-S. J. Washington 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

I stood near the door and I could feel that you felt me.
On opposite sides of the room was where our vibes connected.
Slamming poetry down like dominoes on a Saturday,
the chemistry of our chemistry would’ve made Cupid feel rejected.
No room for arrows to soar in our cloudy haze
we lived the night as strangers in disguise.
You spoke with a sly smile and had legs for days
I tasted your words with reading ears and listening eyes.
Tempted, was I, and Enticing, was you 
together as new and anonymous flames we thrived.
I remember it like it was yesterday, the day you came through
and managed to make Hate feel petrified. 
The line between it and Love had vanished
the only thing in existence was the latter,
sometimes I wonder how you and had I managed
to…you know what, it doesn’t really matter.

I don’t even know your name.
 

-S. J. Washington
 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

A simple question,
if I could find the right words
laced with a tone and intention to move toward
an answer and past the point of nervous pauses
without the need to cover up large wounds with thin gauzes
that may interrupt my train of an already scrambled thought,
one that makes me feel that I’ve got a whole hell of a lot
to lose if I don’t talk to you, maybe?
Or maybe, just maybe not.
 

-S. J. Washington

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

The last time you came over, it was a pricy experience to say the least.
I didn’t thank you for the night though, my apologies.
You walked in and your body was screaming, my hearing started to diminish,
but that depletion only strengthened my touch, and
…you know what happened after that… Let’s see:

Thunder in the room, your moans made the walls crack ($300)
shattered all the windows ($800), I swear you made my mind tremble.
You bit through my pillows ($73)
and left slashes in my sheets ($45).
Scratches on my back (3 band-aids) 
and you knocked the lamp off my night stand ($28)
[but I don’t think you could help it, so I’ll let that one slide for now ($28).]

Your heat turned all the candles into wax and it flowed like lava ($31).
The floors were no longer leveled because where we went, so did it ($527).
From the foyer to the wall ($11)
to the kitchen to the wall ($11),
then from the dining table to the wall ($11), to the couch to the stairs.
The bed was where we ended up ultimately I think.

What’s that saying? All’s well it ends well?
“All’s well you’ll pay for it” seems more accurate with you.
I surely wasn’t expecting you back so soon. 
Are you here to help renovate
or are you looking to wreak havoc again? 

Because whichever you choose, I’m sure the end result will please us both,
but if the latter is what you’re needing,
let’s take it outside.

I already replaced the windows.



-S. J. Washington 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

Edging the walls of your supreme
retracing my steps to the birth of our cosmic sound,
I wandered your path for days with atoms and matter.
Gravity rewarded us both as we never touched a single surface.

Wrapping auroras and coloring the wind
turning clouds into cotton candy,
we owned the sky for a day or two. 
No regrets, not even a little bit.

You remember it all, don’t you?
When the oceans collided and the waves kissed the stars?
Sight seeing from Jupiter’s moons.
We must’ve been too far away to hear the collision.

It’s hard to believe how quickly things elapse.
I swear it was just yesterday we started our beginning.
If one day we wake and the earth is no longer spinning, 
no regrets, right?



-S. J. Washington

 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

The nature of our beauty is rather fallacious
and the errors in our actions aren’t often contemplated.
Think before you do, speak, react, lose patience.
What’s it all for, if life thrives on adaptation?  

Aggravation and altercations lead to grave amputations,
which in turn, lead to application of countless accusations.
A pointed finger starts the long, inevitable domino effect,
and all that’s left is heavy debris waiting to be swept. 

Making mountains out of nothing, stacking bricks high,
this is what we do as time flies by.
Mistakes at dawn, and misconceptions by noon, 
broken rules by sundown, new laws with the moon.

The beauty of our nature is far from deceiving,
and the act of making errors is as human as being.
We don’t think before we do, speak, just revolving spinners,   
because what is this life, if not the place to be sinners?

 

-S. J. Washington

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

…no, this problem began when I made my hidden desires known.
Getting pulled from this and that direction,
I lost sight of the arms meant to hang by my side.
Outstretched and parallel to the ground is where you could find them. 

So silence I tried.
We became best friends when noise became a bully and left me wounded.
Strangely, I felt more alone; everything spoken was a false cushion, and
everything unspoken only seemed to lead to concussions.

Solace was the desired outcome, I’m not sure how the point failed.
Years passed and adult status was reached, but a child remained deep down.
I don’t think that layer ever goes away. Too deeply embedded I suppose.
My arms, however, managed to find their way back home.

Unfortunately, all embraces were lost as a result.
Afraid of losing their way, my arms remained close to the warmth of my sides
or the frigidity of my insides, I guess, depending on the angle. 
They had each other in the end. 

But of no surprise,
like silence, like noise, the proximity of their homes caused angst and turmoil.
Constantly wanting to cross and create stripes on the backs of hidden desires,
the wait was too much and gravity left my arms outstretched and weakened.

A sad story on the surface, but deep down, a message of triumph.
The arms turned to wings after a period of mourning.
Deep in the ground is where they gained their strength again.
And this time around, they only fly me to places where I can embrace those

that choose to remain. 



-S. J. Washington

 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

Where are you?
I reach for you in the dark
but my knees are bruised from hitting corners,
standing hurts now.
Finding a light source requires your assistance
So,

Should I keep trying to find you,
or are you supposed to find me?


-S. J. Washington 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)

Anxious, I lay,
paralyzed by the cadence of minutes passed.
The silence in seconds and its power I underestimated,
where do the days go when they’re finished?

A bucket of years collecting dust in my long-term memory,
experiences left untouched after the first time?
That doesn’t seem right.
Surely my mind recycles biodegradable introspection.

I’m supposed to shed the layers of yesterday tomorrow,
but I’ve become so green with vacillation it’s starting to look red.
How do I save myself from this virulent concept of time?
Trying desperately to learn patience, but that requires patience? 

Just may be the death of me one day.



-S. J. Washington 

(Source: fortheloveofcontradictions)