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Oct 2019
She may look at you in mid sip from her morning coffee.

A sparkling city of Emerald stained in her eyes, she scrolls over you as if browsing library books.

A pulse of fantasy seeking distractions to direct her own noisy traffic jam mind.

Her slender fingers gripping you in urgency. Words you can't stop reading smacking under sheets eventually lie carelessly twisted on floor.

Her sensual looks flying through pages.

Autumn breeze blowing through bedroom window.

White excited curtains rising up like a ghost leaving the body.

Intense concentration. Deep moans. Light awes. Luscious surprises hiding in unexpected corners.

A gentle folk band gone ******* metal. There is throbbing and thrashing, tearing and smashing.

Midnight blue pulsing between reader and writer. Secret lovers meeting somewhere in foggy distance waiting one clear breeze to lift them both up from long brooding silences.

Silence. Bare. Bright. Thick enough to break or free you. Swift voice riding in between dream and awake.

Hold steady. Shake. Find its channel before it vanishes between slippery blinks. Mysterious as deja Vu before meeting someone you dreamed of ten years prior.

Words cut like an ice storm. Dreamy mountains glitter. Both our eyes transfixed on the same mingled breath listening for truth to clear away brutal traffic.

Seeking peace in total madness.

The deeper the break the greater the bliss.

Make room for us there.

We started innocent and fragile, returned stunned and ravaged
holding onto family barbarians as if their axes were our own.

Stare into her cup.

Lakeside birds darting from tree branches leaving you hungry to sing something brutal and fragile.

Close your eyes.
Disappear like ripples on the calm surface of her face. Clean thoughts jet ski under vast indigo sky.

Nothing matters.
Everything matters.
All is matter.

One stare above her coffee cup sip leading up to the library of treasure.
Stories stockpiling up. Words rose like thirsty dreams from somewhere else we can't explain.

Whispers interlaced with curtains, snowflakes melted into coarse fabric. A lamb stares out like a fierce lion catches iron maiden in its teeth, rips it apart.

A deep desire to remember Love's undying fire, crackling flame possessed on oak timber.

Let it be me discovering you as if my pen knows every spontaneous word written on your secret page.

She is just a phantom skulking through treachery hoping to be found in your tossed up mind.

Manifest her dripping misty mountains. Let it tenderly stroll ancient forest branches.

She is a white moon lit up in chrome fractals.

Look up from the last page of her betraying kiss. Fully complete.

Study a desert voice carrying spring water. Drink it. How do you feel?

Icy brilliance mingled in midnight blue. All the cracked edges stocked with luminescent sky. Smile. Cry. Scream.

Stare into her distant eyes.
We are Home again.
Styles 12
Written by
Styles 12  42/M
(42/M)   
97
     N and Bogdan Dragos
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