Lips on lips.
Hungry for more.
Eagerness and expectation fulfilled by
Nibbled lips, dancing tongues, and gnashing teeth.
Consuming you is consuming me.
Let the candle burn at both ends,
In the middle the flame will *****, then
At our core, we are explosive--
Fiery passion, life, and love.
Kiss me, and I'll show you.
You, Mr. Right, are my
Adult Santa Clause.
I look forward to
Everything you'll bring me, only to be
Hit with crushing disappointment as the
Illusion of your existence is
Whisked away forever,
Leaving a cruel joke in its wake.
You exist only as a
Dream of what I'll never have.
A string of lovers bring
(Distractions to disguise loneliness)
But they're neverlasting.
Love exists but not for me.
Camel brown seats pocked with burns,
Dry rotted with age and heat.
A booboo trap (many fingers were sliced opening its doors)
Stained with the stench of cigarettes and summer.
One year your bed was a winter snow catcher
And we used your frozen spoils for ammo,
Your body as a shield,
Our icy cannonballs smashing and exploding against your sides.
Death trap, playground, what difference did I know?
To me, you were daddy's El Camino.
Stranded in asylum
(Succumbing to madness)
Straddling the was and what will be--
Marooned in a stalwart furor.
Outlandish nostalgia for a time unknowable,
Longing for an untarnished future.
Nothing will be as it was:
Vinyl records sound perfect discord,
Pops and cracks inharmonious to
Wishes on stars that will never be.
I can feel it.
My heart severing all emotional ties.
Don't worry--you won't feel the hit,
And soon my absence won't be a surprise.
The crippling pain of betrayal
Drowns our past.
It was nothing, unintentional--
Yet this wicked storm has snapped the mast.
We had a lovely fling.
But it's thanks to you
My bulletproof-glass-encased heart can't feel a thing.
Eyes empty as promises
Through the rhinestone glamour
And the gleaming twilight.
Snuffed by fickle hearts
And volatile tempers.
I left this unfinished awhile ago and rediscovered it tonight, so I decided to finish it. :)
The world is still.
Her artfully perched hat,
Elegantly arranged atop
Perfectly coiffed hair
Belie the workings of the
Stuck, attempting to turn.
Striding the balance between
What-was, What-is, and What-will-be,
She is overcome,
Embellished promise of