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A blade spun ‘round your finger marks my neck
Her mouth is swollen and flowering
Juice drips down my fingers digging out the meaty fruit
The air citrine

Your eyes are greener than the summer we spent driving every waterfall straight into the ground
Crashing with the frozen rock we stirred in melting mirrors
Did we actually find the time?

The whiskey was strong but your fingers broke
Every string leading back to wire
No soft fraying, no dye, no red attachment underground
The lyrics lied and you blamed my gait

My stomach bursts in my dreams now
Her teeth are spread out between a hanging tongue
And I’ve only just learned my name
©jp http://creepytwin.tumblr.com/post/73492942688/ship-tank
I think of those people,
time and time again.
I tend to think of those,
who left me with much pain.

They tend to be the people,
that started like a dream,
I used to think they were,
the nicest I have seen.

They brought a lot of laughter,
and smiles and jokes my way.
They were the kind of people,
I really wished would stay.

I got used to their presence,
and I felt more secure,
I slowly let them inside,
I opened up my door.

But it was wishful thinking,
to wish that they would stay,
Because, just like shooting stars,
they passed and flew away.

Leaving behind those memories,
that were not meant to be,
Just like a piece of hot iron,
they left a mark on me.

I don't see them any more,
but if I did, I'd say,
"Thanks for the times you made my day,
by having the right words to say.

"Thanks for genuinely,
pointing out the flaws in me.
Though it was gradually,
you played a part in changing me.  

Perhaps we are not meant to last,
Only to be a memory of the past.
Even though we drifted apart,
you'll always have some place in my heart."
To those who I got close to at some point in time, but have since drifted from.
A candle is never quite the same,
after it melts with the beauty of a flame.
Emanating such blazing warmth,
enchanting in its glimmering form.

It's just like intimacy,
being known in vulnerability.
Being held in warm embrace,
as they gently stroke your face.
Soft kisses planted on your cheeks.
And the moment your lips meet.

Certain things I wish I never felt..
For once they are felt,
they are never forgotten.

And I am never the same.
Desires once awakened cannot be silenced.  They can be ignored, controlled, but the fact remains that, you know that they exist.
 Oct 2014 Christian Bowman
Missy
his eyes trace my figure as my fingers trace his
and when lips meet it proves of radiant bliss
but as soon as pale hearts meets the greeting night
then hips align like stars only to delight
as one we seek places of the highest standing
using directions written on love marked skin
once innocent, now dangerous
no question arises to contradict such action
for strangers eyes lead astray when they hear of our stories
but the novels we write are only locked and hidden
for those strangers would assure to steal them away
elegance and divinity are like those of vintage coffee shops
where broken hearts are mended with love stories, caffeine and nicotine
where our adventures are as priceless as the Mona Lisa
and no soul can buy or touch the love we express
frost-touched lips meet in the seldom disturbed fields
where thoughts gallops freely and laughs carry on caressing breezes
for we out number the night's stars in moments made into memories
and our touch burns hotter than the smoldering sun in the Sahara
desires dig deep as our roots of commitment
while seconds pass  by without your sheer image
for our novels live on, as we tangle around each other
and passion gleams farther in fields with cold breezes
darling, our love is stronger than imaginable
for with you, your more addictive than hot caffeine in the morning
stronger impulse than nicotine in a life-long habit
your love, our love
we are forever infinite
 Oct 2014 Christian Bowman
Missy
motions rigid, actions unspoken
breathing intensified, darkness blackened
bodies unseen, unforgiving hands travel
passionate candles dance to the rhythm of the newborn beat
secretive longings, lusting scenarios
whispered callings, stimulated beings
sparks ignited, rigid loving
beings become intertwined instantly once the opportunity arises
sensual kisses, playful bites
scratches unobtainable, shivers unintentional
pulses quicken, thrusts intensify
smiles widen while moans roar to escape the overwhelmed being
moments freeze, emotions boil
blood churns, shivers spread
amazement portrayed, ****** ceases
 Oct 2014 Christian Bowman
Missy
distance eliminates simple joy of a smile
the warmth of a kiss is extinguished
the cheer of bright laughter muted
gentle grasp of holding hands slips
and we are left in confusion when their footsteps lead away
loneliness replaces tears of comical statements
and the smell of their scent vanishes like a shy ghost
for sunny skies turn gray
and the world around us continues on, when we are frozen in a memory
our passion and motivation remains on stand still
when nudged we fall over, and refuse to be picked back up
but if we measure love in miles
rare necessities become all the more precious
kisses become sweeter
conversations stretch past closing times in restaurants
hugs become tighter, and embracing releases all past worries
glances become longing
and moments become cherished memories yet to be created
only if we would measure love in miles, instead of love in seconds
cherishing with bliss and thanks would prolong
I'm smelling ash that isn't there
And tasting beer I haven't drank,
I have you to thank.

I miss these dull temptations
Even all they've done is hurt me.
Leaving me was easy, how hard could it be?

These days I laugh,
I laugh with pain,
I can't even try to say your name.
Well, here's something. It isn't much, I guess. Charles Bukowski's "Cows in Art Class" stuck with me and here's something I cooked up from it.
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.
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