Tell me in a whisper
softly speaking in my ear
Let me close my eyes
and feel you really near

Hands on skin of velvet
a callous dream come true
*A juxtaposed position
this love I have with you

A poet you are too
   a poetess,
   so am I
Poetry in motion
was left in our goodbye

I see you here tomorrow
  to kiss your lips again
Pull out another paper
 * and caress you with my pen

I write about the passion
as fire burns us down
From crumpled old love letters
*left lying on the ground

Returned I am
to yesterday
gone without a sound

dipping my quill in ink
   stroking in black ashes
fanning the flames
 * as...I write
  *the night
for you again.


Cherie Nolan© 2016

Her soul
   A torch that lights up the darkness
       The pathway to God's throne
                  Mine soulmate
                      Mine soul

©Brandon nagley
©Jane nagley dedicated ( agapi mou)
©Lonesome poet's poetry

longing creates canyons
a row of well behaved days
a new physiognomy for metaphors
the night has paused
no semiotic skin between me and my lover
ecoutez-moi
listen to the spaceless desire
this woman lost in me
my womb chimes, utopia
Unlimited

You don't make me cry anymore.
When my mind glides by your amorous glow,
Our past no longer slows my rhythm.
You struck a chord, and our light diminished.
A musicians sword, cuts like a prism.
This prison I've put us in,
Is no longer fitting,
For rainbows arch too far from tradition,
And a white dress only fits on a ******.
It's urgent that,
I spell check my wording, cause
My inner workings are always flirting with
The idea of falling for you again.

Maybe it's that marvelous view as they walk away that never seems to compel me to call them back.

Maybe its the happiness of being alone the wind in your hair or the the highways empty embrace that just seems to keep me ruining far longer than the rest.

The bottle the music a simple soundtrack to the existance we only care to forget.

Passion doesn't exit online as machines can't breath life into your lungs but I can't certainly darken your door if only you'd allow me to tonight.

The party we will have only to forget.
You me and the page it's all in secret and  all for them to never truly understand .

Summer may you die.
As all the bad girls sing cheap motels were we gather the ice machine I vist to often underneath the stairs .

I sleep drink repeat .
Trying to find the lines I searched for all the these years past.

From the dust bit in Austin to the Kentucky bourbon embrace I will romanticize the decay only to show you the reality I to often ignore myself .

Another drink shared and hopefully another night with you.

The page can't capture passion .
But I believe I touched upon it more than once with her tonight .