When the Day is Done

Seventeen years, and I still remember her first tears. 

I vainly asserted an oath,

‘I will extinguish your fears!’

Faithfully, seconds and minutes did…what they will always do.

Trifling away as the morning dew.

Must remember to circle back.

to turning her gray skies blue.

 

natural vagina
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah they were all yellow  /ColdPlay

Weaving Way

Maybe a lost cause

a lost girl.

Found by a wayward woman.

A predator, inquisitive, tarnished but bold.

Weaving her web to wayward prey.

Talons sharpened by the victims she slays.

Ascending the turbulent sky…defacing ache.

I guess she must fly where pleasure belongs.

I want to believe…she teases away the mistakes.

Shakespeare’s Sister

Hazel eyes on the Avon…in ravaged jeans.

She had just been so…sanguine

so masterly

so supple

gone…too soon.

In this land where William took Anne’s hand…

Swaying…

‘Have you got it? Do you get it?
If so how often
Which do you choose
A hard or soft option…

How much do you need?’

If only I could plead.

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Erin understood more than eighteen years could ever understand.

Of course, these were infant moments when I had no grand plan.

Skinhead rock atop of tie dye undertones.

Far from home, I had been willing to bathe in her ocean.

Waters once ashen or stark turned tenderly…vibrant.

Fingertip to skin…

a medley of liquors…

strokes…

soon assertive and grand.

Hearts and secret thoughts will fade away.

Hazel eyes on the Avon.

Black tea, a bed, a breakfast, an English kiss, on the Thames.

Diminished is My Way

I could exhaust many a thing

the stinging, pelts of rain

the ferreted holes to the world below

strident waters, black and deeper than thought

matter deliberately flung to the ground

yet, cannot be sought.barren tree

Diminished is my way when I am not free to walk.

In transient, stillness down a one way path, I find myself unable to look back.

I could exhaust many a thing

never to repeat all that is scattered behind me.

Love Before

A preacher’s hands, faded from dust and copper.

An orator’s trade loud with the sounds of rustling hearts.

Let you love now…

For you knew not love before.

And, imageedit_6_5466770984

If you love now.

Love,

love,

some more.”

“For love is never doomed to be mourned.”