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  Sep 2017 Softly Spoken
Akira Chinen
She kept the beauty of fairy tales
fluttering about her heart
and the reality of heartache
in the paint strokes of her eyes
she was always
a tear away from suicide
and a dream away from life
she walked the line between fiction and love
on a rope made out of razor wire
and whiskey shots mixed with turpentine
her feet could smoother burning coals
and bled and wrote stories
no one dared walk behind
she could speak in languages
only the stars and the leaves
could understand
and she sang to both
whenever they asked
she knew how to swim
but preferred the feeling of drowning
the cold searing pain
of lungs unable to take a breath
the fear and rush of staring
into the dark unknown
she would get lost at sea
to find her way to oceans end
where mermaids and starfish
waited to hear
the fluttering of her heart
as told by the beauty of fairy tales
=========================================
Watching the color of my dreams
Even In the darkness of mistrust
When they become invisible
But I can still feel them beside me
Like a dance in my heart
Like a music in my memories
Like the songs in my perception
Like the senses in my imagination
I will tell you all my secrets

But you are not to become your secret
Then you can live unforgettable moments, with elegance
Hearing in your heart
Serenity, joy, and happiness of life
Whispering from the mist
Kindness like a warm blanket of snow,
Softly covering and gently touching the inner dream

Changing our all rhythms into symphony of the cosmos
Listening to the color of your musical dreams
Without knowing the name of the tune
But then the sky merges with the Earth
When you enter into streams of my liking, as
I love the quote of Maya Angelou
''A woman's heart should be so hidden in God
that a Man has to seek Him just to find Her.''

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~
Softly Spoken Sep 2017
She sits across from me now
Similar in so many ways
2 children
About 8 years apart
Arms and back display
A climbers strength
Or a dancers grace
I'm not sure
Gentle lines around
Her eyes and lips
A subtle line of veins
Through skin of hands
And I see so much of myself
Maybe she's older than me
Younger though, I don't think
Her laugh is light, unaffected
There is no smoke
No mirrors here
I hope I am seen
as clearly as her
The lady that has
strange symmetry
Observing a stranger at one of Berlins famous open airs
Softly Spoken Aug 2017
In the arid dust I can see a shimmer of you in the distance, the red of your hair mixing with the ochre earth
Amid the noise and collision of caravansary in Jemaa el-Fna I hear your soft drawl joking with Snake charmers, always in hustle
In souks the sweetness of fennel and myrrh swirl in the wake of travellers steps and I'm reminded of your desert scent, like cedar and musk covered dust
In the dissonance of the call to prayer I can feel your awe as struck as mine, while the roiling sound of voices lifted in faith erupt over the Medina
In the coolness of Jardin Majorelle, I can feel your head resting on my shoulder as I contemplate the reflection of Lotus blossoms in stark blue pools
I see your eyes in the green of the Atlas Mountains, echo your amazement at Saharan navigation, feel your peace as the stars appear over the Riad
But can't feel your hand in mine as the sun sets over Marrakech
  Aug 2017 Softly Spoken
Pagan Paul
.
A warm wet circle on my cheek,
all that remains of your presence.
In a cold grey room so empty,
that no longer holds your essence.
My skin and bones have turned to dust,
a heart dripping to pools so dry.
The fibres of being are unbound,
as you walk away and say goodbye.

© Pagan Paul (23/07/17)
.
Just trying to recall what its like to have a love to lose.
PPx
.
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