The rising of your chest
Like the bubbling
Of molten lava, which burns
Underneath by a heart
That bloats, and pumps into channels
Where warm, red waters rush;
Like the times when anger
Shows red in your face.
These nights when I wait for you
To drift off to sleep
Your hot breath gets steadier.
Like a slumbered geyser, steam
From a peaked, pink spout
Warms the moonlit air above your face,
And I remember how my ears get hot
When you laugh at my jokes.
Would you ever notice
My abrasive desire?
It is a wave that crashes,
Foaming white and misty
Onto your jagged shore.
Would you ever grab
For my hand in the night
When your thoughts and dreams are of me?
The Poem Explorations of Mr. Creery 