poetry

Maps

The only map I follow 

is the one I draw on his body mindlessly 

As he wonders ‘why him’

‘Why do you love me?’ he persists and at time pesters 

‘Shhh… don’t interrupt a cartographer,’ I say 

As I move my fingers from the two points that begin 

just below his left ear 

On his vampire skin 

And go downwards 

On four moles spread across his chest 

Like the Big Dipper formation in the night sky 

Where the North Star at the lower end  leads the way 

To another constellation 

‘Where does the map lead?’ He asks 

‘To wonderland,’ I say 

‘Bullshit! What you want is just sex,’ he laments 

‘Sex is easy,’ I tell him as we lock eyes 

‘I am trying a pattern unlock,’ I say 

‘Why me?’ He persists 

I give him no answer 

 

Maybe it’s like loving the stars 

Distant, sparkling balls of fire 

In the night sky 

And just wishing upon them 

To love you back.

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