Lastly, Last Night

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Lastly, last night’s vigil…

I could not write you a love song.

I would not know where to start.

But last night’s vigil,

reaching for you is where it turns the light from the dark.

My words have never been acquainted with eloquence.

Yet, then came the touch of your skin.

The simplest gesture for many years…unrecognized.

Truest freedom is to lay down by your side.

Misguided romance and nightly party favors,

had been my used to be, host.

Anger’s undercover liaison.

Who had promised to protect me from me.

Hostage of the Heart…had been the bedtime tale.

Spoken words intended to make the strong frail.

Through the trail of fears,

you have taken back my night.

Lastly, last night, you lay beside me…as you always have.

As always, daring me to care.

Lastly, last night’s vigil.

Home at last.

Lastly, last night.

Home at last.

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Dusk Flirts

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It is late at night.

Perhaps, just ’round midnight.

Dusk flirts with a lit lamppost.

I place my hand gently in the curve of your hip.

And, soon…

What strange monsters that lurk.

In the mania of the mind.

Fade to darkness in the beauty of your design.

Dusk Flirts

imageedit_93_6485758073

It is late at night.

Perhaps, just ’round midnight.

Dusk flirts with a lit lamppost.

I place my hand gently in the curve of your hip.

And, soon…

What strange monsters that lurk.

In the mania of the mind.

Fade to darkness in the beauty of your design.

To live, To love, Another day

If there is a battle
I hope my head always defers to my heart
-T. Chapman

somebody else's heart 2

 

 

Some…things, so beautiful…one must look away.

Of these things,

the giddiness

and

jest…

set us apart.

Moments worth capturing…yet, set so

hush-ful,

you wonder about the state of your heart.

A corner curls just a trifle from the far reaches of her parted lips.

A nuance clutches your breathing.

Something that never was…

Something that did not always fit.

It is the kind of love that ruptures and raptures your heart…

Though it was not yours, you watch it, well lit.

Even if it is somebodies love you did not know.

It was someone’s else love to have and to hold.

Did I Ever See Her Again

I see my old street…

I see how it shines.

Those days or red roses and proffered wine.

Moments in an adolescent’s grasp that withstand time.

Around the corner,

and up to the gates of Stone park.

She left

chocolate covered fingerprints upon my heart.

She spoke of things I did not understand.

In youth,

I stuck to the matters at hand.

Did I ever see her again?

No.

No, and wishing would not make it so.