Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Witness the Art

They were like art, the way they moved together, living, breathing, glorious art that you could barely stand to witness and yet you could never tear your eyes away in their presence. 

 

So fierce was their devotion and loyalty with their passion burning just as bright, you could be across a crowded room when they caught eyes and you felt it. 

 

Time slowed like a thick molasses as their connection crackled and they spun a web around each other, catching those around them in it without even trying. 

 

Bodies moving closer until it all snapped into place at the touch of their fingers, then their mouths. Damn, but were they art…in the purest form. 

 

The kind of painting or sculpture brought to life most people see and ache at the sheer beauty of it, wish they were a part of it. 

 

Sensual, hell downright sexual, they breathed each other’s air, bodies always touching, mouths seeking, paying no attention to those around them.

 

They never cared who witnessed their beauty. They weren’t putting on a show it was clear they only had eyes and thoughts for each other. 

 

They just couldn’t help themselves, and when there’s art as beautiful as them in front of you, as bittersweet as it is at times, you simply can’t tear your eyes away from it. 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

The Moon Calls

Restless, I heard her call like I did every other night, unable to sleep as she cast her long, pale, silvery rays over the bed. 

 

Her beauty quieter than the suns, but no less rare or magnificent in her own right. I lay with my hand tucked under my cheek, hair across the pillow, watching and wishing. 

 

On clear nights I watched how she appeared to remain unchanged, yet knew she came to me as if brand new each night. On those nights I also wished for simpler times. 

 

On the nights where the clouds tried to block her out, I watched for her to make a bold appearance. Then I wished for you to do the same. My arm stretching across the empty side of the bed and hand grasping nothing but air. 

 

I danced my fingers over the shadows she cast, imagining it was your skin instead of the sheets. That I was able to trace every dip and curve of your body however I may have desired too.  

 

For a brief moment that night as my fingers restlessly skittered over the bed, I looked up from the silver lines on my arms to the moon peeking through the blinds, the clouds had seemed to vanish in that moment and it was as if she promised. 

 

That one day she’d cast her silver lines over your body beside me and grant my wish. She’d watch over me as I’d watched her through the years, tracing patterns over your skin with fingers and lips. 

 

When the rain would start to fall I’d know she wept at the beauty she herself longed for but would never have. And that as many nights as you laid beside me she would grant me access to you with her long, pale, silvery rays. 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

What Lies Beneath

Her lips dripped honeyed words sweeter than any bee ever hoped to produce. She was a goddess among queens. Beneath her sweetness a truth lay in wait for the man that would one day hold her. 

 

 

Her eyes caught you, always lit from within. A mystery untold even as her mouth would quirk up in a smile on one side. Like she was laughing at a secret only she was privy too. One she may not have found truly amusing. 

 

 

Her face showed youth, yet it also showed the wisdom of lessons learned. Of the life she’d lived to this point and that no matter ones age, they can always know pain and loss and a life lived. Etched in between the tiny laugh lines around her eyes, you would surly find both. 

 

 

Yet beneath her smoothed out veneer ran a savageness and hunger. One that she ruthlessly controlled. She could never truly be held unless she gave herself freely. Trying to capture her was like trying to capture smoke that the wind had already carried away.