Honey on a Biscuit
by Chelan Ashling©


He asks if my eyes are closed
I open my eyes to make sure and I close them again
I bury my head into his arm
Caress the soft, hairless part of the inside of his forearm with my
cheek.
I hope that I am who and what he wants.
I wish it every time I look at him,
Every time I touch him.

I wish for him,
As I touch and kiss, stroke his body.
I’m on a constant path of discovery, as the hard lines of
consciousness blur,
And I’m in a soft space, a place of no words, no symbols, no letters,
no numbers, and no bars.
It’s constant and consistent freedom. Of a love spell and a love
loved.

It’s not a jar, or a box, or a pedestal.
We’re laying on a couch, or in the grass, and its not lumpy, nothing
itches.
I pray for him, even though I don’t pray.
I’m praying with my eyes, and I’m preying on his mind.

I pray, and prod, and pile,
Myself onto him like I’m laying something on thick.

It’s my emotions and my feelings, spreading on him like honey on a
biscuit.
It just comes out, slowly, but surely, and its oh so sweet.
I never knew where it came from,
But nature is all around us,
It takes good care of us, silently,

Until we come to find it, and we realize its been our mother and our
queen bee all along.

I wander through years I never knew of, dreams I’ve never dreamt. My
old self, I see, is dead.

I’m shedding years like a snake, I’m shedding the words I said, and
the thoughts I thought.

I’m emerging from the dark of my past, the deep, deep brown grass of
all that is withered and torn and shunned.

I am emerging, and I am purging, every thing that I always thought I
was,
but I never admitted.

Everything that I pretended to be,
but never knew I was not.

I shed the years that are behind me,
I shed no tears because he is all around me.

I lie in wait for more years to come,
Years I will wear like an expensive fur coat.

I will prance and peer at my bejeweled fingers,
Stare into the mirror for hours at a time,
And see him staring back at me.

I lie in wait for that day, but until then,
I will

I will pray, prod, and pile, until he knows how and why and what he has
changed in me, until he knows that it was never enough until him,

until he knows he was all there ever was.
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Poet of of the every day, the observation, the relationship, Chelan is
the recorder of the rich feeling of every day living with an acute
awareness of beauty. She wishes to capture, as closely as possible, the
feeling of wanting and being wanted, the feeling of achievement of or
longing for a wildly real and intensely emotional experience whether
romantic or in connection with earth and life.