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Cera Feb 2015
burdening my feet

placed so delicately on my bruised shoulders

the nebulous weight of your being is-

without a question left in heart-

the reason I stand stationary amongst poisonous smiles
Cera Feb 2015
It was in that moment.
It was in the moment his knee felt the ground to feel her heart everyday 'til afterlife parted the two that the pulses unified within their bodies and they shared the same smile, awaiting the endless days that would be shared.

It was in that moment.
It was in the moment when the fire inside the yearning two was ignited by the ripping of cloth and the intensity of touch. Blood racing the senses that were sent through each cell of life they had individually, unified under the contact of passion.

It was in that moment.
It was in the moment her face lit to acknowledge the unity that had been planted in her own being that his arms wrapped her now shared body in careful security. His newfound sense of responsibility that he was more than prepared and anxious to handle ringed through her ears and into the hands that touched each other in warmth.

It was in that moment.
It was in the moment the breathing became heavy and the vehicle raced through the flooded roads that she looked at him in painful closure as he reciprocated the look through the firm grasp of his hand and the verbal persistence his presence played in the roaring sounds of panic.

It was in that moment.
It was in the moment the white walls closed in on the empty room he sat waiting. The lights seemed to flicker harder and the silence seemed to pierce through his minds barrier to his vulnerable worrisome thoughts that would trickle down to his stomach. The painful cries of her need ceased to bleed into the halls. He sat now through the slashing anticipation that taunted his curiosity to take control of his rational patience.

It was in that moment.
It was in the moment the deafening clicks of the heel that carried a board of ambiguous words and numbers approached a slovenly sat man that the white walls reeked of shredded strength. It was in the look of his eyes that had been glazed with denial that his body fell numb to the senses that caressed his heart for so long.

It was in that moment.
It was in the moment the same roads travelled on felt longer and the pavement felt enticing to a knee that wanted only to feel a heart.
Her heart.

A tainted seed sat next to a stagnant soul, unaware its presence had not only built the finalized pleasure of unity within a pair of hearts,
but also smothered it.
*note: I am simply fooling around with literary freedom. This is a mere rough draft of a story I will most likely never touch again, so enjoy.
Cera Apr 2014
Betrayal is the closest friend
and the most eager lover.

Betrayal is the whetted apathy towards the willow tree
that lay in the rubble of old letters and scents.

Betrayal feels nothing
but joy in itself, blinded by its ignorance.

Betrayal is the abrasive hug
and the facile drawings of a thundered smile.

Betrayal feeds the poppies
and waters the corpse.

Betrayal is the closest friend
and the most eager lover.
Cera Nov 2013
It's strange.

The want to consecrate the footing we first stood petting.
The urge to expose the portion of each other.
Yet south and south met, forgetting.

It's strange.

The display of your happiness leaves my core,
Wanting nothing more but the reveal of darkness in your heart.
The cowering you left me, and no need you felt to show your sword in the midst of war.

It's strange.

How someone who can mean so much,
can leave without a fight.
Cera Nov 2013
In the midst of a cold November night
tears falling from the dark in silence
not one sound piercing, or one single light.
blackness giving us nothing but utter pretense.

the misted air cloaked with contrite tapping the exposed souls of the night
rides along the cracked frost heave into the abyss of the wilted sense
guided by merely an undulated tone of right.
running from itself within its own defense.

'Twas the dawn of a bitter November light
and frozen tears irrigated days fence
no thing knew of the blackness in the night.
or the surroundings that shriveled its sense.
Cera Jul 2013
When the drapes of our innocence shed
and the warm hands dance along each different pattern of skin
connected with every touch
will the reception fade?
and the screen turn to black,
after all is said and done?
in the end you undress one another
yet only come to re-clothe yourself.

— The End —