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Eléa Mar 20
keep me with you;
remember how my heart sounded
when we lay together,  a blue light
trembling between us, as i looked from your eyes
to the night out the window, and the grey clouds
gathering themselves swiftly
across the deepening sky, balancing a
yellow star, that seemed to swell,
with our lifing skin, breathing
the other's wonder

at something beginning,

stay with me;
keep in the tangled chords of our minds
the music of a ruptured kiss,
of the violence of our chests pressed
not knowing how to know the other entirely
and weeping at each moment we missed

bring me home; tempt me into engagement
touch each scar on me as i
tell you i cant tell you how much
your privacy means to me

smell you on me
how your fingerprints
mapped a future together, and how i
cant undecipher, the language
you gave to me

trust me
i love you
even knowing
you're leaving me
Eléa Jan 25
calm down a tad
who taught you to write like that

who told you to swallow each sensation and
corrupt it gently , in a cataclysm
of shoulder-nudging clichés

when did you find that you could spill
your hearth grown heart onto
blank distilled computer
screens,

and turn them golden, turn them
into the grass you wean
with your ever gentle,
ever purposeful footprints,

and as you loook behind you, one time
maybe (i grant you, i belive you)
will find, a tree sprung up

that looks just like your mind.

and all of us will come and play
spring your strong branches,
bounce each side of the
leaves like
pillows, except this time

the side more lied,
reminds us
of bonfire nights,
and the other, fresh, of broken twigs
in winter,

and there's no need,
except for fun,
to turn aside
Eléa Jan 25
silence hits again, you're
with me in a sense because
you kissed me (recently)
and i felt the soft dimpled wrinkles
of your lips, even through
all the time,
all the distance

and i escape the void,
sideways slanting as my toes
shatter against the footprints in
damp, in sparkling cement
that i'm sure you left for me
there
, i'm sure
they were there, imprinted

in the same pattern your tongue waggles
in the same dance your knees wobble

when they remind me of the sidesteps
we swipe in the future,
dangling eachother's pasts
through the nighttime daisies

glancing moonlight into tiny petals
so they're glowing;,
wiping our grins onto bobbing faces
of middle-class houses
who's once stubborn stark windows
suddenly start winking

skipping fruitful until dawn, and finding,
in the grey summer waking light,
a small raspberry in the brambles
the side of the road

and remembering we do have favourites,
and remembembering that everything

even silence
can be home again

and that everything, will be alright
Eléa Jan 24
things that belong to me:

him
his skin because it tastes like
orange grey light when the sky breaks at almost
twilight, and day winks in between;

and i see it

his tongue, because it sparks like
midnight almost morning stars,
blinking a world that escapes light blue
behind black velvet,
lifting soflty against the top of my
slightly sinking teeth

his knees because they hobble sideways
like the sidestreets, of my childhood,
before i learned to walk with a lilt
and instead collected earwigs, and thought
they curled,
a lot like me

his heels, when i feel them on my cheek,
the lines on his forehead when
he turns them into words
to stretch and dismantle the
inbetween i place in front of him

because he didnt know yet, he was mine,
had been mine, simply

because i
asked him
  to be
Eléa Jan 14
can' - but help it,
have to
words string from fingerprints

did you die when you got the gist, i tried
not to, tied my chin to the world
spinning synonyms beside me

shadowed its corners, filled the
squiggles
of its borders

making a story that
someone would find me,
unearth me

and not to not to ;  
each one of you
to disorder, to fragment me

so sleep softly, if it's only that, child,
if that's all it is, my darling,
forget

the earth sliding gently underneath,
it's forward age
it's backward commotion,

forget the eternal movement that
could wriggle under fingertips

and - Take, no questioning,
this coke, this coke,
this bra, this ring,

take everything
sembling some
form of desire

just not to know,
it's me you really want;

that i really do exist
Eléa Jan 14
i ask to start with a command,
squiggling myself off the damp
night-stained blue cement,

was it **** or ecstacy
i drenched myself in, as i
stood up kissing your knees
and every part of your skin

was it you i saw, when i was
finally high enough to look
level enough in your eyes

the light had changed, dawn  
grinned a leap into the heart of me
i saw how you'd been stooping
your wrinkles, your chagrin

and we kissed
and finally, after all
you did bend
to ask to spend your life

with me
Eléa Jan 7
and if i stayed hidden
and if it meant a world to me
anyway with my light i can see:

in your slow steps, in the
quick that you try to disable,
the lines of your face, your
dragging elbows

each crinkle tells me, as you stand
underneath me
how you love, and discern,
how you smell the poetry of
carpet squiggles

your skin already; marks the
way you stand on tip toes, if some one
asks you -- with joy, relief
with questioning grief

and if it's so much the last;
you cant stand enough to touch

i'll laugh; *
and all my little
dotted rays, will reach you

and your elbows will start dancing beside you
and finally you'll see
each part of you is full of joy
each ; and you
can; i imagine
         have release
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