Songs of the heart hold clear

In the gloom of your smile
Finding shelter in its shade
Fading steps lead to dancing
While acting grave makes one merry
Behind masks of jade and saffron
Cold spices over warm lips
Shelter in my heart
Or be held by my arms
say yes
And though my face will seem impassive
You will know the secret truth of kindness
Of hot blood
Of defense and shelter
Step with me
I can wait

The storm forgives us all

Clock spins round
Heart sinking with the sun
Steps away from home
Lost chances to be in your arms
Turmoil storm
Calling
Saying you will do anything
Poor substitute for actually doing it
Each unwilling to take that comprise step
Unwilling…unable
Still stretched arm hoping
Fingers straining
Heartbeat pounding
Maybe…
Maybe…
Sigh
Maybe it’s too much to ask
Too much trust
For someone never seen
Only known
A blood stained Symphony
Hoping there’s time
Knowing there rarely is
Gods and monsters
Telling me to go
Still
I am afraid

What is wanting in the surity of her savage kiss

Some thoughts violate pleasures
Some boil and seethe looking for fertile ground
Waiting to grow flowers which bloom blossoms heavy with blood
Dark ponders
Desire wars with decency
Losing and winning
Who can tell when the lash falls
Split grin
All the horror of imagination
Given freedom
By a Whispered
Yes
By the knowledge
Her only limit
How far I’m willing to go

Nightmares are also dreams: A Pel and Sara story: Part 3

The day ticks away. Scanning documents, looking for connections, waiting for the phone to ring. I was never happy with the waiting. It’s always easier when you aren’t personally invested in the outcome. I know that if I allow it, this will eat away at me. Poison me. I can’t allow myself to descend into the rush of taking. Making no mistake, monstrous as it is, the feeling of self righteous fury made manifest and acted upon, safeguarding my people and my girls, is addictive.

That rush as you pound after your prey, making the target, and standing over this person. The sound of the gun, the silence as their body bleeds out. The light fading. The flight to safety. All floated on a endorphin and adrenalin high.

It’s not until after that you start crashing. Sometimes you are in first stage adrenal failure. Your body gives so much for those moments. And the memories…the chase comes in fragments, the planning sticks with you. But it’s those last minutes that haunt. You run through the catalog of the targets misdeeds, hoping to talk yourself into calm. Hoping that what you did was justified. Sometimes it is. Sometimes, you just can’t convince yourself. And those are the sleepless nights. Holding your girls. Trying to keep yourself from flying apart.

This time there is none of that ambiguity. But their faces will still haunt me. Still look back, glassy eyed, pleading for one more second of life. And I will smile, grim and frightening. Dark fire dancing.

Maybe that makes me a monster.
So be it.

Patience

A desolate jungle bursting with life
predators… and prey
But not the right one
Animals burst from cover and spill out into the light
The cat watches listless
Only perking up when a particular bird sings sweet
Melancholy drips
Waiting for soft touch, for song,
for chance, for choice
For safety, for a truth spoken in the heart
And the soft crunch of bones

Fahrenheit vs Celsius

This flow
This flawless drift
A musicless melody
Notes straining at the edge of their tethers
A glance that speaks the world
A touch set quake
Foundation laid bare

This edifice
This flawless failure
A baseless memory
Images flicker past dissolving into pigment
A hope that knows better
A taste forbidden, yearning
Words that drift and find no ear to hear

A release of breathe

Her settles me down
As much as I bring comfort
And I’m needful but scared to
Just waiting for yes, you

Her poetry for me
And I for hers
I’ve learned some caution
Not nearly enough

Our touches are innocent
Excepting the maelstrom of desire that fuels them
Our words hidden
And behind our masks, improperly fitted, flash looks and smiles that burn

We are shadows of dancing flame
Shifting, waiting
For your decision
Made behind the walls
Of your prison

Last twitch

There a flower grows
The yellow heat pours down
From a blue sky, soft rain patters staccato against leaves
The soft loam, smelling clean. Fresh earth and the crisp green of new growth
Fronds reaching out to the blue. Sun pounding down they drink their fill
Dew soaked grass, orange gold sunset and the failing light
The first blush of the darkness found amidst deepening shadows
Soft hushed, sounds quiet, the garden cools in the night air
The stars shine. While across the sky meteors fall like tears
The triumphant moon, full and ripe, arcs ascendant in a loving sky

 

This is the poem I wrote as my last relationship was ending. I wrote a each line in remembrance, over a period of 20 days, as I do not walk away. But It was over. Eventually, when other romance looms heavy, even I must shutter the past. As I did today. Not everything beautiful lasts forever. But sometimes that ending marks the beginning of something better.