12/8: a small love poem

knees like a 12 year old boy and my mother's thighs,
these naked legs are embarrassing.

don't make me stand in front of you like this.
lay me down and put me out of my misery.

from me to Voyager 1 on February 14, 1990 (on December 4, 2012)

just turn around, one last time. turn your robot body and face me.

six billion light years absent from my fingertips.
in complete solitude,
you are the climax of my love.

i'm desperate for your unwavering bias in the blackness; you sing praises of vastness.
you've left me, all of me.

turn around as I pine for your truth.

just turn around before the wind dies, and show me my death before we both become engulfed in nothing.

12/4

i have nothing
but this whiskey near
my writing hand,
a shade of 90's lipstick,
and two perfect, pink tits.

i'd say that's plenty,
tonight, and any other night.