Like black coffee. Like nicotine.


She asked me if I think she’s crazy.  If I think she’s a slut.
“Be honest, Jenny.”

“Oh, Sweetie,”  I whispered.
Holding her, I kissed her wet cheek.
“We’re all a little crazy.  I love you BECAUSE you’re crazy.
And Gd bless the sluts, for they give us a clue about life.”

So she looked at me and laughed, though I hadn’t made a joke.
“But what about love?  Do you think love and sex can coexist? Or do contentment and satisfaction need separate profiles?”
“Maybe,” I wondered.  “Maybe they do.”

Like the hot needs the sun
Like honey on her tongue
Like the muzzle of a gun
Like oxygen
I need your love

I closed my eyes.  
My mind reached out, longing to touch the visions that were suddenly whizzing through.
Blessings disguised as hugs.
Safety known through familiar locked eyes.
Spine tingling kisses
White knuckled sheets.
And music.  Always matched to music.

Like a rhythm unbroken
Like drums in the night
Like sweet soul music
Like sunlight
I need your love

She took my hand and looked right into my eyes.
My heart beat a little faster.
“It’s all meaningful, you know,” she told me.  “All of it.  All of it is purposeful, and potent, and full of grace.”
“I think I know that,” I managed, suddenly startled by her strength.  “I think you’re right.”
Her gaze stayed with me a long time.  Like an unexpected breeze of warmth deep within the sea.

Like coming home
And you don’t know where you’ve been
Like black coffee
Like nicotine
I need your love
Like thunder needs rain
Like a preacher needs pain
Like tongues of flame
Like a sheet stained
I need your love

~ In the heart of the heat of the love,  jrb






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