Ink

She lays there in silence, swallowed by the comforter,
Her petite body rising with every oxygen rich breath she takes,
Damn I want to kiss her. Not just kiss her like I've kissed her a
Million times before, I want to take her breath away, feel
Her lose consciousness as her soul presses against my begging
Lips, hear her moan inside me, feel her nails in my back,
A kiss good enough to make her cum, damn I want to kiss her.
I awake to the sight of this complex creature before me,
Nudity fits her fucking perfectly, she's swallowed by the
Comforter. She is a paradox if I may say so, red hair,
White skin and black ink, it covers her body like a second
layer, like everything she's ever wanted to say but was
Tired of repeating, like the work of art she really is after all,
Like the way she wears her pain with pride, she's a damn
Miracle, the way her curves disappear right under the
Sheets, her body is the source of my every fantasy, my every
I Love You is saved for that inked figure, I stare and
Reflect on those words on her shoulder, run my fingers
Over the letters, the same ones sketched on my back in brazen
Black, "I was always yours to have and you were always mine",
We carry Maya Angelou wherever we go, who better to represent
My love for this woman. On her side she has inked a saying
From we, the times we couldn't be one but longed for a touch to
Take the pain away, "If Kisses Were Cures" I'd say to her,
She'd repeat it back to let me know she heard it, but it never changed
A fucking thing. Still I trace the words over her body like they are
Magic, even the words bathed in heartbreak on her arm, or
Maybe the music notes on her neck that one can only see if they
Cared to lift her hair, I do so I can sing the melody to her soul,
I am conceited enough to place my lips on their mirror image, as she
Often does the same to my chest, after all they are hers to admire,
Her own personal stamp on my body, given that most of who I am is
Dedicated to her. I take time to carefully trace the name of the angel on
Her back, along with the cross that accompanies such. She has my
Heart on her arm and the names of two princesses on her wrists, she
Has the guarantee of forever on her shoulder and the coordinates
Of Paradise on her hand, she has the quanitity of love on her foot and
The initial of her prince on her finger. She is covered in ink, a
Darling on the eyes, a savior of the soul, I see a part of her saved for
Me. Behind closed doors her nudity brings raw beauty, climactic sexuality.
Tells 100 different stories, she's awake.

~ Kai Alexander Means

Dear Mrs. Kardashian

Dear Kim Kardashian,
Or should I call you Mrs. West? Well, here we are, questions
Rack my mind like stripper poles and bad decisions, I wonder...
Who really hit it first? Because Ray J says the sex was
Bananas but Nick Cannon says it was oranges, what's really
Going on in your fruit basket? Now, Queen K, I heard you
Were face down and ass up, now was that on your own bed or
Did your momager get you a Tempurpedic? Mrs. West, I
Heard your booty so fat, is that to compensate for the
Tiny pebble of destitute matter in your head you
Try your best to pass off as a brain but fail miserably at doing
So? Mama West, why did you name your baby North,
You could have at least done her a favor and named her
Something better, like Beyonce, I'm just saying.
President Kardashian, could you please tell your friend
Mrs. Carter that her child sounds like deadly
Foliage, again, just a recommendation, Mrs. West.
Back to your love life Señora, you married a white man for
72 days, was that the rebel in you, were you trying
Something new, it seems you are addicted to black men,
You went and married black Jesus. Speaking of
Mr. West, did you really have sex on that motorcycle,
Let the fans blow air through your baby hairs as you walked
Straight to Heaven with Yeezus himself? Do you ever
Cry at night Dr. Kardashian? Because I feel like you do, I mean
Seriously, have you seen how bad your nails looked on last
Week's show, you are way too rich to look that bad,
Pastor Kardashian, you need Yeezus. But, Mrs. Kardashian-West,
I want to know, with you being famous for no reason,
Are you happy with yourself?

~ Kai Alexander Means