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When the moon hovers hallucinated
on the post canal
breaking in bubbles of fish breath
the white widow of the night
revives her long dead tongue
to lick the scales of your skin
pulling you into her bed of nails
making love with you the whole night
leaving you bruised and insatiate
when they find your shadow
scouring the edge of the canal
with her name on its lip.
A night out on a village road in December mist alone with the shadow plays havoc with imagination.
03.12.2016, 9 pm
 Feb 2017 Scribbles99
Cait Harbs
I crawl into worlds of words
to escape the one world to which I'm bound,
burrowing deep inside pages
that carry me away from this cursed ground.
I'm sorry, darling, truly,
that I still run away into these places unknown,
and that I leave you, here,
to face the flames of this burning house alone.

I know that we both thought
our love would give me reason enough to stay,
but my god, I've never learned
to rely on only my spine for support each day.
Forgive me, love, I do not mean
to retreat into the forest growing in the library from you,
but without these daydreams, these
intricate mansions of imagination, I don't know what I'd do.

You can always come with me,
or you can find a heart that does not roam
to the fields beyond reality -
one not used to calling inked castles their home.
Know that when I'm absent, I am
peacefully swimming with the papyrus' tides,
or building a fire of hardback covers -
but I will always return when you call me to your side.
I retreat a lot and I don't even mean to; some habits die hard.
 Feb 2017 Scribbles99
cwhite
I'd fly
 Feb 2017 Scribbles99
cwhite
So many miles between us.
Only if I could have one wish.
    
I would wish to fly.
I'd fly over high mountains, and across valley greens.
I'd fly over blue oceans and every river and stream.

I would fly in the dark of night without a moons light. I'd fly into the early morning passing the sunrise.
Through the wind, the rain and , into any snow storm.
I would not stop, no matter how cold, no matter how hot.
I would fly and wouldn't stop. Not until I flew, on your front door step.
Because theres so many miles between us.
 Feb 2017 Scribbles99
Traveler
I love to write
Simultaneously
I hate to read

I'd rather listen
As my muse
Breaks free

Under water
Balancing breath
Deep in sleep
Closer to death

Chasing passion
Down endless
Rabbit holes

I love
To follow
No matter
High or low

And when the trip
Comes to an end
I suppose
I'll come back
  As a Poet again...
Traveler Tim
I was never lonely until I met you
and now whenever your gone
loneliness consumes me
Why do songs about lost love
Always bring to mind your face
Every wistful tune
Filling my mouth with your taste

Your memory sneaking from my radio
Making me think again
Why didn't I take a different road
Why wasn't I a better friend

My speakers filled with tunes
I could swear you wrote
Highlighting all my wrongs

Now sing me into misery
While your memory haunts me in song
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