Under Construction

So, it has been a hot minute since the last time that I posted anything up here.  If you're wondering why please see my post entitled "The Resurrection of Calypso".  Anyway, I have decided to do a new feature, my Under-Construction pieces.  these are poems and short lines that I am working on.  More than any of my other pieces, I WANT PEOPLE TO COMMENT AND RESPOND TO THESE PIECES.  THese are raw poems that are in their infancy.  I am putting them up to see what people think and to get feedback on what I can do with them.  Please feel free to say what you want about them.  Remember, that this is still my damn blog so I will use what I want and ignore the rest.  I will try to at least respond to all comments, but what will make it to the editing table is up to me.  Thanks in advance.

Untitled 1

You step into the room
and my eyes swerve
for a side glance to
enhance my perspective
on this perception
of heaven
that strides, no
glides
as I sigh from the inside
releasing the tension
within and outside
my body.
Then palms meet
great
touch
clutch
and linger
with pssibilites unknown.
Only to part
leaving me alone
lost
unsure of unsure thoughts
about self:
self that was
self that is
and the self I want to be.
Lost for a time only
to meet again
to share a meal
and open the door to
self discovery.
You lead me
palm to palm
touching
clutching
and lingering
through the portal to new
ventures
that start with a kiss
lips on lips
lips on lips
lips on lips
reflections
dancing in dim light.
Angelic fingers
start from the ground
up
tracing the fault lines
of my doubt.
What is this between
He and Me?
This reflection of myself
tht touches
clutches
palm to palm
slides
and glides
while sighing from
my inside
lips to lips
hips to hips
anglic fingers
tracing
possibilites unknown
and bringing me
to joy
to self
to other
only to part
and meet again
What is this thing between
Me and He?
It' is concrete
poured into the falt lines
of my soul
cementing
the self that was
the self that is
the self yet to be
with the reflection
that
is me but not me
that touches
grasps
clasps
slides
glides
and sighs
from my inside
at the possibility.