You are my night shaman,
you lead me deep
into primal chambers
where life's mysteries are manifold.

Grandiosely bragging about what you would do
While gently pulling my hair, adding emphasis to
Such a desperate attempt just out of the blue
I had to shake my head and feel sorry for you.

How very little you must think of yourself
To offer your body and withhold your mind
To quickly entangle and even faster unwind
Leaving countless diminished beings behind.

My sympathy should lie with every woman
That has welcomed your nothingness on chance
That has been lured by your lustful glance
To later be dismissed when they seek to advance.

All I see is a scared little boy, trying to hide
In superficial exploits because you're void inside
Casting lines of bait with all feelings aside
Giving no thought to others cause your soul has died.

© Tina Thompson

I heard painful derision of the nightfall
drawn me to seclude my talent
into the unknown place where it was not born futile.
It has been years since you ate my mind;
since we met in that strange road
where all melancholies diverged,
you have been my relief, my friend
and my witness when I was crippled by tears.

I seldom asked the mirrors, why should I continue?
If there are thousands of people outside our worlds
who could create you better than I,
who could make you more attractive than my pen?
Why should I continue my dreams?
And so I almost gave up, surrendered in peace;
I always wake up on the wrong side of the bed.

I was sailing edges of the oceans
just to seek for a masterpiece,
but I was fooled by my selfish intentions
and so I laughed at myself for length,
for there were a bunch of times
I could not even bestow you a single word.

I was totally bruised; buried my feet on the ground.
Others love my poetry, others just trifle,
others read it aloud that no one can hear,
others in facade of silence.
It matters no more, I have critics then.

I write not to impress, but simply to express
my undefined emotions, and unstitched fantasies.
Well, composing you is little bit hard for my part,
but you were a butterfly in my heart.

21/2/12    16:09pm*

How lovely is my dearest one in sleep,
A fair whisper of who he was before;
Silence has fallen in the castle keep,
Spring birds are singing; and he speaks no more.

How pale, my Romeo, by evening light,
How cold, these sullen lips I'm burning for;
The sunset burns with amber, warm and bright,
Blooms shine like lanterns; and he sees no more.

I kiss the pillowed tresses of his hair,
Caress his face, these pale hands I adore,
Such touches as would tell how much I care,
I kiss him softly; though he feels no more.

The dagger shimmers coldly in my hand
Bringing death's sweet release to my command.

You hold me deep inside my bones
with thoughts that wander
to be born again
each morning.
Yesterday whispers
until my body sings
to be seduced
and I fall in love with you
once again,
without warning.

You are a spirit,
one could say,
delicately racing
through all I reach out
to feel.
Each night you rage
like an ocean
inside the softest image,
and all my heart can do..
is humbly kneel.