She teases.
Sticks her tongue out.
I retort,
“Promises, promises.”
She does the same to him.
He replies,
“The best kind of promises.
The ones that play
Across the edge
Of your imagination.
The ones that make you
Shiver and get goose bumps.
The ones that make it
Really hard
To stay quiet
&
On-task at work.
Those promises…”
It's often
& little
Known that
Guys fall harder
& faster
Than women
Do.
Sometime
They are promises.
Sometimes
They are gentle
Pictures that
Send us over the edge
Of our senses
Careening headlong
Off a cliff of reason,
By a woman who
Never intends
To follow through.
It's playful banter.
“Don't tease.”
I playfully retort.
She pouts.
She likes to play
With her food
A little too much
For my heart's
Comfort.
Delicious torture.
We love the game.
Someday love.
I frighten you
Because I will follow
Through,
And then
Where will you be?
At the edge of my
Tongue
Sending you over
That cliff
Where you are
Afraid to let go
And be free.
What will it mean?
Nothing,
Other than
You are loved
By me.
What will it mean
To him?
Relief
Acceptance
& if he's
Blessed
& lucky enough
For you to let go
Of your fears,
Love.
