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Chris Thomas Jul 2021

I made love to you in my mind,
Long before my hands traced your skin
I tore at every strand of fabric,
Long before I espied the shape of you
I unclasped your bra in daydreams,
Long before it was tossed aimlessly aside

And whatever, my love,
Happens to us now
Know that the burning desire within me
Still echoes
In every revolution of the minute hand
And in every mile of space between us

I know again I shall crave,
Reckless collisions from our bodies entwined
I know again I shall thirst,
To mingle my hands within strands of your hair
And I know again I shall covet,
To pull you back to the embrace in which you belong

And whatever, my love,
Happens beyond tomorrow
Know that the labor of my love for your touch
Still echoes
In every drop of rain that resounds upon the roof
And in every emergence of the sun's first light
Chris Thomas Jul 2021
I'm standing on the horizon line
Peeking back at the yellow brick road
Their eyes are transfixed upon me
And yesterday seems so out of reach

Hesitation grips my footsteps
Recalling this past of flying colors
From the birth of my blues
To the death of lavender lullabies

Secret doors explode open
Along these sunrises and sunsets
I feel each tender ***** of the needle
I slumber in pieces, yet never in peace

Waterways of indigo and dandelion
Sweep stubborn hands away from harm
Skies of silver and harmony
Pull stubborn feet off unsolid ground

I watch tangerine dreams freefall
And the octaves in my soul follow suit
I am impaled by future's rusty blade
Crimson bleeds out and radiance dissolves

Tomorrow tastes more and more bitter
The more it drips onto my tongue
Grey washes over everything I have ever been
And I turn to face a life undone
Chris Thomas Jul 2021
It often feels as though I was never meant
To be the man that I have stubbornly become;

It often seems more likely that at one time,
During my checkered past,
I laid in wait in the foliage,
Sprung a makeshift trap,
Subdued one of my pursuers,

And assumed their identity

It would be one of the few logical explanations
For why I consistently sabotage my own path;

Retreating to my sanctuary,
Setting up tripwires around every corner,
Poisoning my sole water source,
Setting up sensors around my heart,
Camouflaging the exposed crimson,

And stalling for time that I no longer own
Why do I still daydream about the ending
When the beginning is far from written?
Chris Thomas Jul 2021
The sun is setting over this wonderland
Here I am, drifting along shame again
Using my dreams as the raft
And my heart as the anchor

I make landfall and plot a course
Blistered feet causing no distraction
My veins run with yesterday's toxins
Making my scars more visible than before

Anxiously, I await in the shadows
For the villain to make his grand entrance
My hands crave to clutch his throat
My eyes burn with fires of vengeance

The cost of everything he took from me
A debt that could never be repaid
I crouch behind misshapen branches
And inhale one spiteful last breath

But the cowardly ******* never shows his face
Leaving no print for miles around
Until, at last, in the rustling of summer's death
Autumn points her finger directly at me

.
Chris Thomas Jul 2021

Yesterday,
I patterned myself a savior
One who was stitched up tightly,
In the shadowy form of a simple man

A man who,
For all intents and purposes
Bled out when the town did,
Some-sixty-odd seasons ago

I am incapable,
Incapable because my empty hands
No longer reach for a hammers,
Now they only reach for nails

Today,
Rubber burns like embers in the night
Filling the lonely air
Which, in return, fills my fading lungs

Spurned by the asphalt,
I sit behind the steering wheel
And turn my car around,
Without actually turning myself

So, I shake my head,
Tired, of endless parades
Tired, of the volume of silence
Tired, of staring at an empty canvas

Tomorrow,
I will close my eyes for once
And sketch daydreams forgotten
Buried beneath the sands of time
Chris Thomas Jul 2021

Effortless
I am a freeform mystery
And I may never come home again

Treacherous
But I can no longer stand the waiting
Because these heavy pages will not turn themselves

Senseless
My rhythm is ridicule
But this world cannot confine me with its atmosphere

Perilous
They call me a dreamless dreamer
For beyond the sunset, I have been driven star-craving mad

Weightless
My burdens float away into deep space
But this is where my yesterdays become a crater

Ravenous
The aesthetics of the universe overtake me
And I have decided, I am never coming home again
Chris Thomas Jul 2021


I listen for your symphony
In the wake of your departure

Sticcato

Long nimble fingers
Draw the bow across the strings,
While an arrow,
Doused in poison,
Brewed from the moisture along your lips,
Has been loosed
Whistling through empty air
It is true
I own no armor capable of deflection

Impaled

So I listen for your symphony
As I release my grip upon the world
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