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Showing posts from June, 2013

Still

F  Forever you, ever present, long after you are no longer here.
Making a mockery of miles & moments.
Leaving Time questioning it's impact, Distance questioning it's measure.

Out of sight.
Still on mind.
Still on skin.
Still remaining.
LOOMING LARGE, weaving through the tapestry of my life with threads of gold that outshine all others. I close my eyes, and you're there, present with that wicked smile that could wipe away all of my fears; with that tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth designed to disarm, disrobe and dissolve doubts in a heartbeat.

Lingering in rooms; present in crumpled sheets saturated with the scent of you that clings to my skin on waking. Signs of you in the hand prints on bathroom mirrors that fog up from steamy showers, water from taps & tears pouring down in rivulets on flesh starving for your touch.

Cold descends on my heart, loss grips it like a vice, the ache unbearable, I let the pain wash over me like a wave, taking comfort that I can …

fragments

Passageways dimly lit with doors firmly closed on people past, ego's exited and discarded. Doors marked with times and events purposely  forgotten.

The first door seems nonthreatening.  It is marked "The Quiet Room" in the flourish of Monotype Corsiva. The door is painted white; it stands ajar and the light streams gently outward, casting rays on the stained carpet.

I wander in, seeking a quiet mind and a calm soul. The room welcomes me, offers me respite from the other doors which strains against hinges wanting to spill open to let the foul contents out. I close the door to the quiet room and find solace there in the space filled with light. I bathe in the glow, feel it wash over me...

A throaty laugh disturbs my peace, the cacophony coming from further down in the darkness;  he is clearly drunk and his booming voice is a ramming rod, threatening to blow  the heavy door out of it's frame.
"Nancy!" he calls, softly at first, in a playful voice.
Then louder…

On Empty

"What do you want from me?"
He was at his wit's end, at the brink.
"More," I said, "more of everything."
"More of your lips that taste of Marlboro and coffee."  I traced hot fingers firmly over parted lips.
"More glances, deep and promising, holding mine," I said, touching eyelids heavy with emotion.
"More heart,...your mind and soul; mine, with every pulse," my warm hand on chest hard as marble; and just as smooth.
"More time, with you, fleeting seconds, lasting moments; or days spend in yearning when you 're not with me."
I felt his breath warm against my ear, "Yes," he said with a trace of sadness, "take everything."
"Shhhhhhh!" I said, compliance expected, control absolute.
My nails were painted as dark as my intentions; my lips, blood red ... I almost felt sorry for him, he had no idea:
It was time to dance with the devil.
I picked them out, and discarded then at will, my …