Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Perhaps it was my own fault;
Letting her ever get that close.
Inviting her underneath my skin
Where she'd gnaw at my bones.
The dichotomy, while blatant,
Fell to eyes under strain.
Her beauty was blinding.
My world suddenly dimmed.
Her voice, ever charming,
All other sound fell to mute.
My old heart, her new hobby;
Another puppet, abused.
Douse your half of the fire,
Yet mine still rages on.
Though I’m new to the subject,
I'll call what we had ‘love’.
But if ever again I feel heartbreak:

Dear God,
**** me young
Pursuing yet another parabolic
Crawl across the clear, blue, summer sky
The sun started its journey at the horizon.
Radiating—  Forcing its warm, orange, light
Through venetian blinds; the glowing celestial body
Painted her naked, flawless, skin
With stripes of contrasting light as she slept.

He watched her quietly as the shadows
Manifesting between each strip of light, inched
Across her skin in unison with the suns trajectory.
Ever so slightly opening her sleep-crusted eyes
She looked up at him, yawed gently, smiled and
Rolled over to position her body against his.

Her narrow, freckled face, rested easily
In the crevice between his arm and chest.
Letting out one more yawn, her emerald, green,
Eyes fell back behind their lashed curtains of flesh;
Dozing off into the next satisfying slumber.

The ceiling fan above clicked and waved erratically
But offered no relief from the hot, humid air.
Perspiring slightly, her skin remnant of morning dew.
In those last few minutes of direct, morning, light
Right before the sun left the scope of their window
He couldn't help but think that this was it.
This was love, and he was trapped.
Pushing brick buses
with juvenescent hands ***** like “Harry Potter”…
Big smudges on my shirt with nuisance,
but Sammy was barely bothered…

(What a trip down Memory lane…)

Now, I mash these hands with this Land for a Sensory gain.
a Mass Erosion emerges but a mandatory pain…
Drench my sweat with soil moisture to vapour rain,
And branch my Set of Culture with this dirt under my fingernails.
Maverick.penmanship© Hands In Mud 2015/02/24
Next page