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 Mar 2015 Shannon Delaney
KT
Oh no,
it was not of the ordinary kind.
It was not the ****** ****,
to leave a puddle in the bath.
It was not reckless, it was not thoughtless.
It was a **** of no other kind.

Oh when I think of it
and when I hear the crows
hovering above in the sound of the bell.
That rusty bell, when the sun is gone,
together with the crows,
on time they all sing,
precise as the ****.

Oh no,
it wasn't a bullet, shot in shake and fear,
it wasn't a sloppy slip, one fast and quick.
It was a **** foresighted and long before known.
It was silent, yet loud and felt.
A type of ******,
when a queen murders a king.

A type of killer she was,
who put poison in the chunk of bread
in the sight of the murdered.
That food was sweeter than life,
when eaten from the fingertips of the sensational murderess.
It was swallowed with joy,
yet known it is poison.

Simple, when looked from far,
venom she whispered and sipped,
from the killer red dry lips,
that ate away the skin.
Not a spot when on the spotlight,
she is a predator of no other kind;
The killer, claws the prey,
with the most gentle of touch.

It was not a moment, a blink of some day,
it was over and over,
every gasp, every second of every day.
It was not a knife to the back,
it was clean and open - wound to the front;
Facing her gaze,
oh, she pierced it right in the heart.
It was the sharpest of blades, over and over again...
As they say,
there are few swords that cut so deep,
as the blade of unrequited love.

As I walk now in the sun's light of noon
and remember the days,
I still feel the warmth of air passing in my open heart;
I still taste the blood of my already fallen skin.
I writhe a little...
Then I softly grin,
from cheekbone to chin -
I think of the time when you murdered me.
skin skidding
lips breathe as one
novels fill with the mystery,
the language
we create
magnets and mirrors,
our hearts race in harmony
intertwined
and
in love.
 Mar 2015 Shannon Delaney
Born
Its nothing if your old and weary
you still posses devastating words
so take my heart
and give me yours
the problem with my phone
is your the only number it wants to call
it has you on speed dial
which gets frustrating after awhile
when with you i get a busy line
not just once but every time

now i find i'm trying
to dial you off my mind


and if i try to text
that just ends up more of a mess
your the constant ring
in the back of my mind that keeps bothering me
i'd hang up the phone
even though your the dial tone

how often now have i tried
to dial you off my mind


your my phones only contact list
its every hit its every miss
the picture on its screen saver
you come with your own bag of bad behavior
i think it's time to face
your also my phones carrying case

*is it any wonder i find i'm trying
to dial you off my mind
i've got your picture
sitting on an empty shelf
it's been there for years
all by itself
i might  dust it off
every now and then
wiping at the memories
of the days when

i've got your picture
that sits by my bed
last thing i see at night
as i lay down my head
you'd think i'd dream of you
more often than i do
with all that i have left
being my dreams of you

i've got your picture
inside of my billfold
so when i'm out and about
i still have you to hold
it's a bit torn and tattered
much like my life
still i've got your picture
to remember you by
I often find
A woman's mind
Is much like a woman's purse

Both deep and wide
With much to hide
And plenty of room to learn

Where she keeps all her stuff
More than enough
To get her through the day

Plus even some
Items for fun
When she feels the need to play

There's so much stuff in
If she started to dig
That even she doesn't know about

That's one thing I like
About a woman's mind
It's so hard to figure out

Plus a diary within
To hold memories in
Of the best and of the worst

And that's why I find
A woman's mind
Is much like a woman's purse
in between all my uncertainties,
I'm almost sure about one thing
but I'm going back and forth between
a plan for my body and a plan for my soul
I'm beginning to lose sense of what's right
and starting to feel like it's wrong...
all wrong...
but how can a path so tempting be the same
path that would lead me to your mountain
of destruction and chaos
of beauty and delight

in between all my uncertainties,
I'm almost sure it feels right with you...
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