EllusiveID: when IDs are illusive and elusive.

Saturday, May 12, 2007


[to A.]

he whispered in my ears
words of passion
but how i couldn't
not think of you...
he told me how he
would fuck me
and how i would enjoy it...
but how i couldn't
not think of fucking you...
although i would have loved
to touch his dick and feel some
flesh with my hands
and although i wished
to be penetrated
i also wished it was you.

he whispered in my ears
words of beauty
but how i couldn't
not imagine you,
with your lips smiling
reminding me of the sun
when it rises,
as a surprise
every morning...
as if life has its own logic.
how i couldn't not
feel your hair
when he touched my hair
and told me how much he
adored it.

he whispered in my ears words
that are not like all the rest...
and i could not help it but,
remember how your voice
swims inside my chest
moving my lungs
and making it impossible
to breath.

he whispered all sorts of
and all i could hear
were the letters
that compose your name...


  • I love this. It makes me think of turning something inside out. Taking it apart and putting it back together again--like reconstructing 'the letters that compose your name' from the words he whispers. It's interesting that you say 'as if life has its own logic'. The poem is about passion, yet somehow this passion gives birth to order. I would like to hear more...

    By Blogger ayasha, at 4:03 pm, May 12, 2007  

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