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Your hands are gentle
As they take me, create me,
Making love, and art.
The perfection of a moment
Is limited by the fact that one day,
You will remember it wistfully,
And you know you will.
I am not sure that I actually believe this. I actually hope I don't.
A butterfly
On the stem of a leaf.
A child with a net
And a small glass jar.
Outcome undetermined,
Many do escape.
  May 2014 Amanda In Scarlet
A Mareship
There is a deep, rich silence and the bedsheets are as soft as oil.
“What do you think happens when you die?” I ask. “From a purely scientific perspective. Is there any way…?”
Dee rolls his shoulders onto my hands.
“No, Art. I told you. There’s just nothing.”
“But I can’t imagine ‘nothing’.”
“Of course you can. Before you were born – what was there?”
“There was the promise of me.”
“No. There was the risk of you.”
We both laugh.
“There must be something.” I say. “There must be.”
“I hope there’s nothing.” Dee says. “ I can’t think of anything worse than an afterlife. I want peace and quiet. A lifetime is enough. Being alive is such a strange predicament. Knowing everything and knowing nothing.”
I can feel his heart against me. I can feel his heart and smell his skin. I feel us, as we are rocked by the world and breathing together.
And outside is the garden, the wisteria, the white chair, the promise (and the risk) of something, anything, everything, nothing.
Snickering, taunting crushing
Glass spine Pain
Shiver-sweat, an acid rain
Crushing heat, pulsing vein
Sly and furtive, scraping pain
Mainline pills, a codeine drain
Senses fuzzy, can’t explain
Pain is all
The pain, the pain.
Strong pain feels like it takes over everything, like a constant foghorn scream drowning out the rest of the world. How to function, how to cope.
Let yourself escape to me,
Your willing woman, wanting, waiting,
Ready, there, for you.
A forest, filled with the succulent scent
of nectar dusted flowers, dancing, so delicate,
Passion coloured petals
Swirling through a waterfall of want.
Here we will kiss,
A deep and dizzy first, and lasting taste,
Savouring the flavour of need.
Dream with me there, in our world of wonder,
We will weave and keep together
A heartscape, a hiding space,
Our loves' home, a treasured place.
I eat voraciously, wanting so much,
And am never, ever sated.
I am discerning.
What I want is good food,
The sweetest of treats,
The choicest of meats,
I hunger for delicious,
And consume with delight.

I love ravenously and without reserve,
It consumes me.
I live, and love,
As if that is all that there is, and it is,
It is everything.
I cannot reign it in,
Or make it any less.

There are people who can be content
With just enough, with a little.
They are moderate people,
Sensible and satisfied.
Not I, when I want,
I want the world.
Like a little child,
Hungry and fixated, my open mouth
And thrumming, eager heart
Ready to give everything,
Waiting to be filled.
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