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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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Moon Love

Could you be mine? More importantly do you wish it were so? Mine to love, to cherish, to adore in a way that I do not with others. Because you would simply be more to me than they could ever imagine.  

Perhaps you do, perhaps you don’t. Maybe you have been burned so many times that the flame inside you is barely a flicker now. Let me be your kerosene and we shall burn together. 

Not as the sun burns…No. Burn with me as the moon does each night whether the stars are there to witness its beauty or not. Burn with me not as the sun which can cause injury. But as the moon in its infinite beauty and mystery. 

The moon is so freeing and soothing. It’s warm but cool glow casting shadows and revealing the parts we keep hidden during the long, weary days. Even the stars cannot compare despite their numbers. 

Show me that like the moon no other can compare to you. No star or person on earth can touch what you could be to me. Could you be mine? More importantly do you wish it were so? 

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Life-Terrifyingly Beautiful

Life is terrifying but beautiful. Terrifying because almost every aspect has at least an element of the unknown. And yet beautiful for the very same reason. 

So much chaos inside each person, the only certainties that you have been born and that you will one day die. What happens in between is up to you. 

Some chose the path well travelled to avoid obstacles, but find little happiness. Often finding themselves wishing for something else or a dream they once cherished. 

Others choose the path they must forge on their own. Fighting obstacles at every turn to get what they have so long desired. They are filled with drive even when others scoff at their dreams. 

The first may know happiness but they often feel the sharp sting of regret as time passes. The second often feels regret each time they fall down. But once they attain what they set out for, their happiness knows no bounds. 

I am the first even as I am the second. I traverse the path well worn if only to also follow the path that I choose for myself. I cannot lose sight of my dreams or I will fall prey to the common and mundane days that the world tells me I must suffer for stability and happiness.

The world can steal your dreams as the wind steals smoke from a fire. Yet a fire burns its own path with unrelenting force regardless of what surrounds it or the opinion of others. Be a fire for yourself and surround yourself with matches for the days when you forget how amazing you are.

It is a journey we each must take on our own. Regardless of those we are surrounded by. We must choose our path and learn to be at peace with our choice. Else there will be little contentment or joy in the constant void of what ifs and what might have been. 

If nothing else, no matter the path you choose. Choose peace and contentment for yourself no matter the circumstances you find yourself in. There is no greater pain than living a life on how you are told too instead of the life you are meant too.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

A Thought of A Dream

The years passed slowly while I was in them until they didn’t. Until time seemed to have flown away and I was left with only a thought of a dream.

I dreamed of you in the long, dark hours, until the sunrise kissed my face with its warmth. I hoped and wished for what may come but left it in the cool embrace of the dark each day.

Until I returned each night to gently pull it out and covet what was not yet mine. This thought that was my dream. Oh how you made me wish and wonder over you. And I was eager although unsure how to fully embrace what may come of it.

There has been none like you and so I know not how to handle the riot of butterflies you create inside me. Not just in my stomach you see, but all across my bones they wrap their wings before taking flight.

A blush steals across my cheeks and yet I cannot help but grin. Even as I start to vibrate with anticipation and also the unknown. You are not yet known to me. But you so easily know me that you have become a dream that nestles in my thoughts.

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My Ocean

The water has called to me since birth.
It’s depths an intriguing unknown, often filled with mystery and a layer of fear or doubt.
Still the darkness draws me to explore with languid strokes.

It’s shallows a playground, filled with laughter and life. I could linger there for hours watching and listening. Feeling it’s sweet embrace and never tire or not wish to return the moment we part.

Always it has caused me to ponder life’s meaning along with its many joys. Of what has passed, what already is and what may come.

The water leaves no room for lies whether to it or yourself. It draws out the secrets you hold even if in whispers and the wishes you thought may never come true.

The water gives clarity even during times of uneasiness. Draws you away from your past into the present, towards your future.

It is one of my greatest pleasures and dearest loves. Always I will return to the water for its promise of truth, peace and joys.

And so I will with you. For you are much like the water filled with unexplored hidden depths and joys. Waiting to be discovered. You are known and yet unknown, you see me as clearly as the ocean. Filled with mystery and light.

Let me swim in your depths and explore your shallows while showing you my own. So two oceans once separated can find their way again.

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Everything or Nothing

If I’ve said ten thousand words to you, there’s a million more I’ve withheld, quieting myself because I am bursting with words I can barely make sense of on my own.

They dance on the tip of my tongue, playing across my lips before my lungs suck the air back in and I let them go with a flick of my tongue across my lower lip.

At times biting until there is a metallic taste down to my soul. It brings me back to myself and I let it go. A small pain to save future misery.

My dark edges are difficult to understand, but we all have jagged souls from the people and things that have brought us to this point in our lives.

It’s only a question of how well your demons play with mine. And how well my demons accept your flaws for what they are. The sins of another are not yours to bear. But bear it you must when the time calls for it.

The past is not so easily forgotten and I have withheld a million words so that you better understand. I will not be a stepping stone, I will be forever or I will be a memory.

Give me everything or I am nothing to you. Give me your dark edges, your demons and I will find the light that is meant to be mine. In return I will give you all that I am or all that you can stand to hold of me.

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The Lighthouse

Pain may come in waves over time.
But you have seen rougher waters then this and you still shine like a beacon.

You are the lighthouse on the horizon, a symbol of home and safety for the ones you love.

At times their ships have been unsteady and they have strayed from their path. But always you have guided them back.

A burning light, a solid haven planted deep in your foundation. Strong enough to withstand the waves that have passed and the ones that will come.

There is infinite beauty in your curves and stature, waiting and watching for your ships to reach your harbor.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Set Me Free, Or Love Me True

Their silence kills what remains. 

Their silence tells me all I need to know, even as they deny the truth. They are no longer sure and now their doubt causes mine. 

 

All hearts are laden with baggage of the past, some pieces are to fresh and too heavy for hearts to overcome. They are to wrapped in bitterness and rage and will punish any that come after until they learn. 

 

Learn that they have to lay down what they knew and thaw their heart, open it not just in thought to what could be. Separate it from the past and from the pain they have suffered. 

 

Learn not to use another human as a stepping stone or temporary distraction for your rage. In that you do them a disservice and add to their baggage by telling them they are not worth anything more than what they can give to you when you call for them. 

 

Their silence kills what remains, like a set of strings pulled to tight, on the brink of breaking. Pulled and pulled while your heart pounds faster until it’s breaking over you. 

 

Waiting for the knife to drop that will wreck it all. A dull blade, already covered in your blood and tears from the attempts it’s made. The strings around your heart, once chains of steel. Now frayed and damaged. Past repair. 

 

This time, this time you give them the knife they need to end it. No more dull swipes of the hand causing jagged cuts. Cuts your salty tears fill up each night so you look whole in the morning light. 

 

No, this time you tell them to cut you deep and let you go. Or stop making you bleed with their selfish attempts to love you. There is too much fire in you to calmly accept a mediocre love. If I burn for them. They should not make me into ashes swept under the rug.