Never the Same Kiss

She touches me in ways I cannot avoid.

It isn’t in the stories…she’s told.

It is not in the wonder-lust or star-dust.

Not in the way she holds my demons near.

And, yet, years have passed…

that kiss never remains the same.

What a taunting challenge laid out before me…

lessons of masked chivalry.

Perhaps, the secret lay in…they loved each other well.

Perhaps, it is simply…she loves me well.

Never Straight

I understand my darkness may never go away.

I carry it as a shadow…everyday.

Little is the fluctuation between the fair hair and the red skin.

Yet, there is no difference between the thin.

The thin line between love and hate.

My road is forever rocky…never straight.

Tell Her Today

Tell her today

before

the mist fades into the fading enchanted forest.

Before

fauna has turned to fallen rust.

Tell her today

while

the slight brush of her hand on yours feels thin and threadbare.

Today holds her…as though no other moment will.

Tell her today

about all events that made you stand still.

Buttercups and First Impressions

Knowles ChilledFirst impression?

She had smelled of salt and pepper hair.

Which I now understand to be…

The scent of ocean nights and green apple as they…compare.

Hinted with aroma of dusty nights at a local fair.

Cotton Candy amassing in the nighttime air.

First impression?

She said to me…

‘you are my buttercup!’

Tangy, earthy…free.

First impression?

“I need you more than anyone, darlin’
You know that I have from the start
So build me up  buttercup, don’t break my heart.”

 

To Much Love

Underneath plush cover of cotton.

A healing hand in repose.

As if, a wanting to be disposed.

 

I regard too much, while grasping the outstretched sleeping gesture.

I ponder,

‘too much love!’

However,

between the warming waves.

There is an oft instinct to fit that love with a masking glove.

Trials and tribulations sometimes, come like thieves to memories in the dusky air.

Too much of love, has come, handle with care.

 

How easy it is for a closeted romantic…

To question beyond the here and now.

Yet,

beyond the walls of sleep.

I do not let go.

Do not let go…the healing hand of love.

A conquest of my questionable foes.imageedit_113_9461982436