The illusionist drawls,
"Choose wisely", fanning his cards,
and she, eyeing Five of Cups,
POPS her bubblegum, chooses
"You", deciding that the imp
who claims he's not an archetype
is merely the reversed Hermit.
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
"WHAT?" I roar,
feigning rage, scoffing,
shoving you away
but you reel yourself back,
laughing and grinning and
I murmur, "tesoro",
only into my tea,
because if you knew
you're my treasure,
you'd leave.
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
Reclining on our backs,
we wonder at the sky.
You point to the abyss of potentiality,
and, tracing her tattoos
with your hand in the air, mutter,
There, like the closing
to some sacred ceremony were we've
united halves into wholes, and suddenly
I do
spot a falling star, and wish
to be the twin of your essence
and for however long forever is,
drink the glittering moonlight in your eyes, if you'd
let me tell you everything I'm thinking,
and I'm thinking that,
wouldn't it be divinely suitable if
we, alone, together, both half of
the same constellation,
drifted about the snow-white night,
our dreams tumbling from our tongues like
a waterfall from the basket of
the water-bearer?
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 11:45 PM UTC
[Wine]...one glass, tipsy...
with his hand pressing her waist
close to his body, she feels
comfortable, desirable, warm, drunk
with pleasure in his leading arms,
she forgets steps between Latin beats, and,
as he fearlessly caresses her hair,
she wonders how it'd feel to
fully entangle herself in him,
gradually unfolding like a lily,
finally drinking him in.
A delicious, undeniable secret:
like fine wine, he's a decade aged.
[Lemonade]...two glasses, nauseous...
and yet her heart sighs for
the sweet Prince Charming who must have
parted the seas to settle
in her home land, since he
grins and glows when he sees her.
She longs to be his companion,
to debate, and learn, and
Be, and, God willing,
joke, in his company.
[And Everything Else]...three glasses, quenched...
and there are infinities of
unsustainable drinks that tempt and
shine and inspire admiration, like
avant-garde paintings from
an optimistic, sprouting, pop artist,
hung on the walls of her mind,
in the nooks the grapevines missed,
pandemonium in silent moments,
until she grows weary and parched and
opts to sip water instead.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 11:39 PM UTC