I think of you nude lying under the leaves with rose petals on your eyes,
An arm stretched out like Michelangelo’s angel on the Sistine Chapel.
I think of the click of your shoes like cruel castanets
In the red rooms of my heart.
I think of you nude,
Like a Romanesque angel.
Your skin like the dying rays of the sun.
I think of your hard, purple jewel
in the white, innocent smoothness of my hand
Mostly I think of your dark eyes like pitted olives,
Glowing like liquid obsidian in the dark moistness of the night.
I know you hate me and love me, and want the same from me.
You like arsenic and sugar,
and, I, poor simple beast only like the sugar.
You are a savage who rends and tears the ones you love.
Can I ever show you how simple is love.
How true. How deep. How honest.
You, vicious beast, who cannot learn.