My Tree Lover

Erotic Poetry, Weird Poetry

My tree lover speaks to me through the sensual susurrus of his branches,

Rustling my dark curly-locked head.

I press my lips into his bark to let his sweet sappy mossy scent enter me

As he closes my eyes.

He gives them to me,

His spent sun-filled leaves,

Letting them fall and gather at my feet

So I can collect them

And keep them under my nightgown

Against my dewdrop skin

Until the full moon’s reflected light fills the sky

And the hollow places in my heart.

They remain there,

His leaves,

Until we can spend our dreams together,

And they disintegrate back into my flesh.

He embraces me with an amber passion

That hangs from my limbs in liquid suspension,

As he caresses me with the deep ridges and roughness of his bark

Which he imprints upon my yielding frame like a lingering kiss —

My softness succumbing to his hardness,

My velvet parts wearing his marks like lace.

When I am far from him,

Floundering in steeled cemented labyrinths,

The breeze carries his fallen leaves back to me.

They land in my nest of hair,

In my mooning wanting thoughts of him.

The wind carries parts of him

Back to me

On the waxy surface of redpinkorange leaves

Pocked with holes, spots, cracks and crazing.

He is no less perfect when he is falling

Than when he is splendouring

In endful summer.




*** Well then… making out with trees…. That takes the cake, Sweet Cheeks. And… admit it… you found ‘susurrus’ in the Thesaurus. ***

*** If you peeled a layer of my skin from my bones, you would see that I have bark instead of muscle fibre. ***

*** Yes. I discovered it when thesaurusing ‘rustle’… and managed to fit both of them in. ***

*** … Show-off… ***