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  Mar 2016 Luna Tuesday
SG Holter
Infatuation. Deep devotion.
Skin on skin, fingers on lips
Find teeth, find tongue.
Scent of perfumed lotion,

Whisper woman, cry more,
Hands refusing to untangle
Hands on neck, but not to strangle
More than just a little.

Infatuation. Deep devotion.
Nails in skin. Mouth to shoulder.
An emotional explosion in
Slow motion.
Luna Tuesday Mar 2016
Lighting a candle before my bedside,
I slip a small piece of my past
underneath the brass holder
to catch the waxy overflow.

A pink envelope addressed to
(my love)
encases the torn and tattered teardrop-filled
piece of stationery paper.

Your words mush together with the
slight scent of beeswax and sage
and my mind wanders off to an unknown place

3 am:
Awaking to the smell of
an almost-smoke
burning my nostrils

burning my curtains
Is this what it was like
loving me?

Loving you was an ongoing river
each rush getting away from me
the second I felt it
while the rocks, the biggest burdens,
stay in place,
unmoved, unsolved

The light of the candle flickers
as I watch the fiery masterpiece
flow over the room

I lit the candle before my bedside.
I knew the consequences,
repercussions
of loving you.

— The End —