Beneath the overhang of tension
we hesitate,
wait
for words to settle,
be withdrawn,
or apologies offered.
Curses spoken in haste provoke an impulsive, immediate reaction,
an equal cutting response.
We've lived and suffered the consequences before.
Allowed actions as instinctive as lust to run raw.
And we've been subjected to it's prideful display.
Guilty as a drunk's song waking dogs in the wee hours
and as certain as sure
we were right
all along.

A timble of breath
spills with her "yes"
eyes respond honestly
yet
edged with a trickle of nervousness
as her fingers trace
contours of flesh
along forearm and bicep then leap to cup
nape of neck
and lure tentative steps between distance of our lips. And lids close out the rest
as the kiss inhales a timble of my breath

She gathers up the lost dreams
the old and the broken
the dying and the stolen
neglected and fogotten
then carefully carries them
in a spider spun satchel
takes them to her home in the meadow
where she carefully mends them
till they're strong enough to fly on wings of hope eternal
back to those that most need them.
The ones that have no one
to return to,
return to
live in the wishtree by her garden
and when it's time
they help guide her
to dreams newly lost and broken.

Stars prickle the darkness
counterpoints to measure its vastness
they steal eyes and gift wonderment  
allow birth of dream and scientific torment
they witness and receive wishes,
they exist yet
many are no longer in existence
the closest is only seen in its loneliness
yearning to shed the veil of blue

Was the lover you took
worth the hurt
you inflicted
on the one
you left?
How long did
that part of your heart
set flight before the door last slamed?
Was the goodbye coiled
ready
to strike like a hidden snake
waiting to be poked the wrong way?
Or were the fangs always on display
as honest
and as bitter as the bite