Synastry: The Loving


His love is
Like indigo evening air with
galvanic veins of lightning.
Like the eye of the hurricane
guarding you from
turbulent gusts that
circle around.
Like the liberator of your soul
finding a safe home for it
in his heart.
Questioning
everything internally,
in files,
in drawers,
inside,
until he can iron them out
to articulate them
perfectly,
just for you.
A quizzical charisma
that captures many,
but trusts few
because he’s cultivated safety in solitude.
Still, every day,
he draws from his
bottomless well of encouragement
and freely tosses it away
to all.
The wedding of
logic and imagination
in a man of few romantic sentiments
out loud.
His feelings are his best-kept secret
that you discovered
lies flat beneath
his silver tongue.
A poem
without poeticism,
but the sweetest illustration
and delivery through breezy eyes
and his tornado embrace
with your hefty inhale
of believing the unspoken.
He speaks in memories
and reminders of
those unfathomably tender moments
in which he first seduced you with his
delicious unorthodox.
He tries
to be charming he misses the mark,
because he doesn’t know
how alluring he is
when he just
is.


Her love is
like the fierce protector,
Artemis,
defending your honor
to the death
in secret
as she trails your every
footprint
until her final pounce.
Like a stallion
prancing around
the open meadow of your soul,
her wild mane whipping in the wind.
Like your savior
come to set you free from
the mundane
by entrapping you
in her impassioned smother.
Goddess of the wilderness,
she shows you how
she lives among the towering trees
and befriends the burly beasts.
As you witness her world
you wipe away
the swelter of
intimidation
from your forehead
and accept her thrills and threats.
You realize
her brush fire burning affection
is more salacious than your
once favorite
dirty dream.
It’s her slow smolder
that stole your heart
through her devil smirk
like a magnet to your eyes
as you attempt to peer
into her head.
You yearn to read her
feral thoughts
like the fantasy novel beside your bed.
But you find her ideas are not in
structured sections.
They are in
scattered sketches
in a journal.
Blabbering,
bouncing
from page to page.
She’s flickering,
fluttering,
flaking.
Facetiousness
to distract
from the darkness that exists deep
within the acres of a formidable forest
she avoids.
Rummaging,
foraging,
she lives for
the chase
and you could be her permanent prey
if you so choose.
She told you that her spirit is made to
wander
beyond these woods.
She wants you to come along
for the adventure.
The choice is yours
whether you wish to embark
on an exploration together.
Of several new worlds
and pleasures.
Of physical
as well as
emotional,
psychological,
and spiritual.






A love story inspired by The Zodiaco Collection by feminist poet, Brooke Solis.

Thank you for reading! What did you think? Leave a comment below. To support my work, consider buying me a cup of coffee!

2 thoughts on “Synastry: The Loving”

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