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 Mar 2015 Kate Nagle
Your intoxicating gaze makes me drunk with desire
Kissing my mouth with your warm supple lips
Pulling me in closer
I feel your hands on my hips  and I ache for more

You are mine for the taking and I greedily take what you offer
I fill up from your physical touch
Satisfyingly so
I turn to find you in another world unable to keep away

You let out a satisfying sigh before you rise from my side
I hear a low murmur of hunger pangs and know I'm not enough
To keep you full
You leave me alone to satisfy your greed for her hyperbole
 Mar 2015 Kate Nagle
 Mar 2015 Kate Nagle
With the rage of a thousand tsunamis
I want to slap you across the face
Tear down your walls
Rip up our roots
And wash away the pain
But then I want to kiss you better
Hold your hand
Feed you and give you shelter
Now that you have none
And say I'm sorry
Over and Over and Over
 Feb 2015 Kate Nagle
I want to be the bed covers
You wake to
That your restless limbs
Have smothered
That your emanating body
The fabric
You have tossed-and-turned in
8 hours hence
Imprinted with your scent

And the mouthwash
You gargle
To swoosh-and-splash
Along your tongue
To be in you
Like a liquid ache

I want to be the fork
You pick your eggs with
My metallic spine
In your slight fingers
Your demure  hands
Scarred sustenance
Yolk sun

I want to be the comb
Tangled in your frizzy hair
Your wavy hair of smoke
And shadowed lakes
As soft as lint

I want to be the cig
You light on the corner
To warm the brick morning
I want to hang on your quivering lips
Like an autumn leaf from a branch
I want you to inhale me
And let your body loose
Feel me utterly
Then exhale...

Let me evaporate
Into the nothingness
I was before

Footnotes: An aubade is a morning love song (as opposed to a serenade, which is in the evening), or a song or poem about lovers separating at dawn.[1] It has also been defined as "a song or instrumental composition concerning, accompanying, or evoking daybreak".[2] - WIKI

It's generally a lament about the morning since dawn means the end of the night, the broken spell for the lovers. Romeo and Juliet perhaps exhibits the most famous "aubade".

However, I decided to write about the morning after.
 Feb 2015 Kate Nagle
grace elle
They treat her skin like it's ******* and her tongue like it's ecstasy and her fingers like they're needles shooting up their veins with misguided entropy, but it's really just her poisonous lies she hides behind and things they'll never see buried inside that they become addicted to.
They swear they can quit, they swear they'll get clean, they know girls like that are bad, they're not someone your mother would want you to see. All she leaves them with are some track marks and a broken heart.

The sunlight looked like moonlight at 2 in the afternoon and the way my skin looked when the light hit it through the blinds made me lose sense of reality and track of time. The moonlight and my pale skin are the exact same shade and it's not just a coincidence she has the same name. Eventually the night actually came but the moon shed no light, I was surrounded by darkness and memories that fly around my head screaming their goodbyes. Ghosts that dance on the walls and replay in front of me, I was entrapped by the past and put off by the future and everything is a long line of suture.

The whole time I was haunted, I was begging for something enchanting. Grasping for something to hold on to but all of the handles in this lifetime are already being held onto or they're broken. I let it go in the dark like this was all a false start. I could see the track marks she left on your arms, they reminded me of the stars.
 Feb 2015 Kate Nagle
SG Holter
Today I crave something
Soft. Her warm skin against
My face. Softly whispered
Commands, such as

Come. Rest. Dream. Feel
Her warm hands; fingers
Whispering kisses on my back as I
Drift away,

But remain inside.
These concrete floors, brick walls,
Ice cold steel of tools, all
Unfriendly; unwelcoming.

I am a child unwilling to be
Born into it all.
Let me stay

Where everything is soft.
Soft as strands of silken fog on  
Water. Soft as a grandmother's
Love, monastery choir song,

An infant's evening prayers,
Teddybears and doll's hair.
Zen poetry; fields of flowers.
Mountain dreaming itself unstone.
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