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Alaric Moras Jul 2017
You are-

The taste of summer
In a coffee pudding  

The sound of a table fan
Masking sighs

A muffled chuckle when
My fingers do the congo

On your
Expanse of
Flesh
Undulating
My head spinning
Your lips whispering
Our hearts pounding  

Quiet

You are-

Seine nights we swapped
For evenings of 'just one kiss'

Sunrays in a jardin
Over crisscrossed fingers

Pastéis de nata when
All else is sour

A Spanish song I hum
I cannot understand

Love,
The sky grumbles because
Try as we may to hide it,
Our June knows
When we ignore it for each other

- Lui(s) II
  Jun 2017 Alaric Moras
martin
She's planting out her window box
Young shoots are showing through
She thinks about the Springtime
And the garden she once knew

There were primroses and daffodils
Sweet violets white and blue
She thinks about her husband
And when their love was new

Buds and blooms open up
They scent and colour Summer long
She thinks about those happy days
When they were young and strong

Sunset's falling sooner now
Petals drop, the show is done
She gathers up her Winter shawl
Prepares for what’s to come
Delighted to be the daily
Thank you He Po
And thank you Eli Yo
Alaric Moras May 2017
I wake up
Terrified
Knowing that your scent
(In all its transcendence)
Is fleeting.

The fear is not unfounded.
Yesterday, my most summer shirt
Smelt like
Your touch at sunset

Tongue
Pressed to my lungs,
Fingers
That forever lingered
Hair
Tousled air

But today
It lies dead,
Crushed beneath the burning sky it weathered
After a day bereft
Of your cool laughter

Beloved,
Try as I may to hide it,
We both know when
My clothes have not touched you enough

- Lui(s)
  May 2017 Alaric Moras
Joshua Haines
I approach most desires
like a competition; can I
**** better than him;
can I be famous at twenty-
-three since he was famous at
twenty-four -- I must be able
to sink better than him.

God, it is exhausting. I
feel like I'm dancing with
a machine; a phantom that
I can never catch, for it runs
on my blood; my insecurities;
my passion -- and, boy, oh boy,
can I attest to having plenty of
  that stuff, ladies and germs.

I think, truly, that I am
encompassing the American Dream
I think is utterly flawed; that I think
is futile in nature; that I am sure of
is the closest thing to Hell, in this
Godless, spiritually motherless
dark shoebox of sudden collisions;
this space of useful and useless
results, splayed onto and into
our hearts, asking for reverence.

There is nothing  I want more
than to be sure that my importance
is not illusory. I am not sure if
I am real.
  May 2017 Alaric Moras
Rachel Ace
You look like a light-colored satin
Stars f
          a
            l
              l on your caramel hair
Your laureate crown is permanent

You walk fast as a local feline
L'Empereur far from his throne
You look disoriented
You look tired

It's nightfalling
Resolution parts
The moon shines
Gold minds

Lace L'étoile
Jeune ace
Shiny sleeves

I go through a mirror
You're sitting in there
I hide carefully
Not to be alert
I have found myself again
Dreaming of you inside
The reflection of your mirror

At night my opal
                           sleeves are made of satin.

   - Codelandandmore// 6:00 PM ©
Modern poem
Alaric Moras May 2017
I burn for you
In places you have never known
The sweet expanse that is my chest
Thumping painfully
Uncharted territory that rises and falls
Second for every second that you do not calm it
With your ploughing teeth

My neck is wreathed in
Your kisses never given
The ocean folds of it
Rippling for want of
The moon of your smile
In darkest night

My sinew arms creaking
Like a forest rustling
Without
The liquid lap of your
Sweet tongue
Dripping dewdrop desire
Into parched elbows

My body is a land entombed
Without your blessed breathing
Fogging its locked grounds

When you finally find yourself
At my doorstep
Brave enough to conquer a land
Flat chested, hard, briny
You will find that
Someone else has wet these terrains
And love grows like lush
On every part of me
Worth touching
Alaric Moras May 2017
From the dust of my memories I put you together,
I am trying to glean you from the sands of time that have separated us.
There is no poetry in me, nothing hidden or secret that I can say, just that
Though we had long known each other, we now simply
Know
Of
Each
Other
And this, to me, will always be the finest tragedy,
The coup de main of time

I watch you though the layers of lies that are Facebook
Instagram
I see your words dry up and sometimes flow
A stream few others love; the sweet cadence of the
Silent rhythms I have long loved
Your tribute to the bea(s)ts inside your heart

You always reminded me of silver,
The tarnished kind,
Sitting quietly in Colaba market
Waiting to be touched, loved, occasionally dropped,
But always retaining in yourself
The sleek splendor reserved for someone
Proud in the knowledge that
When the moonlight shines on her,
She would know how to shine right back.

Beloved,
You are married now,
And no words dance between us
I have listened to you on nights
With barbequed meats simmering
Moths fluttering
And laughter tinkling
The wind caressing your stray hair as if it knew
That you belonged to it all this while.

I will burn into the back of my otherwise undisturbed skull
The pictures of you in white,

I laugh.

Seeing your delight
In a dress
We never thought you’d slip yourself into
So evasive were you,
But nothing stopped you when your mind was made,
Falling in love with a man who could listen like the ocean

From the dust of my memories, I draw you out
Through the sands of time I see you,
Living in a world where
The stars dance for your joy alone.

Someday, somewhere beyond this life,
We will meet each other in the spaces
Between two others’ lonely fingers.
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