make love

what if that's it?

an obstacle is just waiting
for sex,
for making love to it,
with it,
engaging in foreplay with her,
that's all

she thought you didn't love her.

every obstacle is a call for fertilizer--
the sharing of your deepest self
with her,
your own children,
your vulnerability,

to bare your soul,
not your armor

extending an ear,
that she too
can drop her seeds
all over the ground,
every single one,
hold nothing back

no wonder it's called
the garden of eden--
the space where
every obstacle has been
made love with,
appreciated--
nothing left untouched;
so gently, tenderly
and ravenously
embraced

make love,
not war
(with your thoughts)