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frances lee Jun 2011
the sea surges beneath the pier
I feel the subtle rocking
of the weathered wood
as it creaks in slow surrender
to the tremulous tide
I am reminded how powerless I was
amidst the swirls and eddies
of your fathomless kiss.
frances lee May 2011
the sunset holds no power over me
there is no solace in dreaming
for when the velvet night unfurls
I’m left here - waiting, wanting, burning.
frances lee May 2011
the sound is tangible,
thick in the air
pressing into every open space
filling it
with the sweet vibration of melody.

I raise my gaze
to the blazing hot amber lights
and throw my head back
feeling beads of sweat
trail down the back of my scalp
into the collar of my shirt

note after note is ripped from my chest
I squeeze my lids shut
and I feel
where the music wants to go -
where it needs to go
where I helplessly follow.
forever enthralled
in the throes of song
frances lee May 2011
and remember the way the world was –

when the weightless wonder of clouds
was magic beyond your ken.

when fireworks were tiny exploding suns
pure fey fire from across the night sky.

when hope was a kite string in your hand
thirsty for the stirring of a soaring wind.

when love was more than this ache
smoldering hollowly and unanswered in us all.
frances lee May 2011
you are required
to exist within the strictures of reason
and think in lines and squares

you are required
to wake at a certain hour
and appear at an appointed place

you are required
to grin and bear dreams deferred
for marginal mediocrity


i require
the teeming torrent of passion
that drives discovery of the sublime

i require
the burning rebirth of a thousand suns
torches in the night of new dreams

i require
the promise of wild lascivious eyes
and the whipping wind of desire

i require you
frances lee May 2011
exhaustion in the creases of my collar
fatigue in my carelessly tied shoes
sleeplessness in slowed speech
stretched to translucence
my heart simply ceases to beat
frances lee May 2011
we are all broken in one way or another, are we not?
in varying states of disrepair
we gather ourselves up,
shard by jagged shard
piecing together
a new likeness of ourselves -
fractured then mended each time
a lifetime of reconstructed hearts.
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