but does the serpentine smoke that escapes your lips
still entangle and curl around unspoken words
that dance and linger on your tongue
like my hungry kisses used to?

They lied to me when they said that sticks and stones break bones but words don't hurt

I found that your words have branched and rooted within every splinter in my bones and the ache is nagging and constant

It's the guilt your words caused that weigh like boulders on my shoulders and every step causes a new fracture

Sticks and stones don't break bones but the weight of your words have crushed me

The morning misty white
winter's night turns through blue to pink
a delicate porcelain haze
diaphanous scarf of silk that floats
above the sleeping hills  
this season
like a dream
creates the beautiful scene
that decorates the window every day
of which I never tire
an ever changing kaleidoscope
of colours shapes and sounds
but now
all is cloaked in snow in mounds

Margaret Ann Waddicor 19th January 2016

--but i have realized
that i live for the ash in your eyes,
the shadows i kiss from your collarbones
the unspoken flames that dance
                                     across your skin

igniting, consuming.
between the swirling dust
and your smoky eyelashes,
i breathe you,
choke on the embers and
love every moment of it.

dream not of winters, gentle storm
       let rosy summer whispers warm
your thunder heart, restitched and torn
       by fleeting waters
                        silence-born.

the smiling creator
takes his light in his hands
and whispering something
of lovely summer
places tiny seeds in pots
and hovers close
anticipating the joys
of imperceptible growth

bare feet
          concrete jungle
stepping, stopping,
gone
the smallest of pebbles
neon flickers
                                                        ­      do not call after her
night erases the gaps
streetlights dim
loneliness
            glows
                                              ­                do not call after her
she dances telephone wires
       asphalt horizons
                                                              do­ not call after her
even the sidewalks
are silent