I always complain about the lack of potent contemporary writing, as if all the best writing was done a hundred years ago, and I am always so so so happy when someone proves me oh, so wrong.  Haven Veritas is a “Performance Poet, Freelance Writer, Professional Shenanigan-ista” and a facebook friend 🙂  Her “Hearts” Chapbook is available now and you should buy it!!

To order, send $12 via Paypal to info@havenveritas.com or cash/check/money order to:
Haven Veritas
PO Box 105
Warrensburg, MO 64093 

I am blown away by this piece of writing. Enjoy!

(The original formatting refuses to stick on here so to see it with the right spacing, go here.)

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I drowned in your eyes exactly one week…
before I drowned between your thighs…

You’re every star speckled sunrise I hope to God/dess I live to see.

I’ve learned, love.

The faintest hum of freedom baking warm on a desert’s stretch; you sing in me.

I swear I spoke brown paper bag imagining your heart beat.

You’re the only I bow before in worship depositing sacred prayers through dripping lips while you cry out to your God with shaking exhalation. My name…

is not…

Jesus Christ.

But you smell like Heaven, if Heaven smells like amber drenched wishes and molten promise.

You’re compassion’s best side with a dark chocolate tongue and all I can do is dream of you melting in my mouth.

You’re my greatest comfort’s dirty little secret, so you don’t have to speak…

just moan for me and I’ll understand every word.

That whimper I just heard?

That sliding sound meant, “Blessed be all that is holy, who caused our parents to rock hips so that you could hide your words inside me like a secret.”

See? I’m fluent in you…

fluid over you…

rocking side to side, back to forth.

Palm to sweat slicked heart struggling its way into my hands. Throb for me.

My knee spreads your thighs, a subtle benediction.

My mouth on yours, sacred communion, while wrist deep I nail you to the bed.

Let me breathe stories of the places we’ll go and show you the beautiful world that lives in the back of your head. Show you the real meaning of a craving. I want you deep enough to save my soul; to rock you to sleep.

Feels like I should begin this once upon a time, a long, long time ago. I swear I’ve had you pulsing between my lips before. I’ve drawn your fingers into my mouth and tasted the last time I left earth. You shimmer so brightly through me. I’d live in your shadow as long as it had that same look in your eyes when we’re trading movement for hitched breath recalling our ancestors.

Do they rock with us, gripping rounded hips, tongues tracing palms for our lifelines? Did they know while preparing for their sleep that they would see chest pressing against back, flexed calf and curled toes? Laughter rumbling into nape? Pooling moisture glistening droplets of ecstasy greeting eager lover with open legs and grinning heart? Did anyone tell them that life…

is just a dream?

Your words fall smooth like the slick drip of warmth sauntering down to my ass. You taste like want from 1700 miles away and I’m shattered; a tattered work of art in need of a master painter who knows what faster means…

And more…

And…

NOW…

Tell me a story of the night mathematics shifted,

turning one…

plus one…

into one.

One creature shattering to rebuild …

one mind whose …

one coherent thought is…

HARDER

“Harder” 2009-2010, Haven Veritas. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner or the publisher.

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