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 Dec 2013 Rosaline Moray
berry
you're under my skin
like a body in a grave
buried way down deep
2 years ago
I met  the  one
in a dream
he treated me like a queen

I thought he wasn't real
but a week ago
i met him
the
       guy
                from
          my
dream

2 years ago
I would've just fallen
but since then I've felt..
Pain
Betrayal
Disappointment
Abandonment

­It cant happen again
I wont let it happen again

So the  one
is going to have to wait
because my pain is still fresh
& every morning
when I wake
it hits me harder
I cant just bring down the walls.

2 years ago
it would've just been him
but today
I'm not so sure.
How is it that I am now so softly awakened,
My leaves shaken down with music?--
Darling, I love you.
It is not your mouth, for I have known mouths before,--
Though your mouth is more alive than roses,
Roses singing softly
To green leaves after rain.
It is not your eyes, for I have dived often in eyes,--
Though your eyes, even in the yellow glare of footlights,
Are windows into eternal dusk.
Nor is it the live white flashing of your feet,
Nor your gay hands, catching at motes in the spotlight;
Nor the abrupt thick music of your laughter,
When, against the hideous backdrop,
With all its crudities brilliantly lighted,
Suddenly you catch sight of your alarming shadow,
Whirling and contracting.
How is it, then, that I am so keenly aware,
So sensitive to the surges of the wind, or the light,
Heaving silently under blue seas of air?--
Darling, I love you, I am immersed in you.
It is not the unraveled night-time of your hair,--
Though I grow drunk when you press it upon my face:
And though when you gloss its length with a golden brush
I am strings that tremble under a bow.
It was that night I saw you dancing,
The whirl and impalpable float of your garment,
Your throat lifted, your face aglow
(Like waterlilies in moonlight were your knees).
It was that night I heard you singing
In the green-room after your dance was over,
Faint and uneven through the thickness of walls.
(How shall I come to you through the dullness of walls,
Thrusting aside the hands of bitter opinion?)
It was that afternoon, early in June,
When, tired with a sleepless night, and my act performed,
Feeling as stale as streets,
We met under dropping boughs, and you smiled to me:
And we sat by a watery surface of clouds and sky.
I hear only the susurration of intimate leaves;
The stealthy gliding of branches upon slow air.
I see only the point of your chin in sunlight;
And the sinister blue of sunlight on your hair.
The sunlight settles downward upon us in silence.
Now we ****** up through grass blades and encounter,
Pushing white hands amid the green.
Your face flowers whitely among cold leaves.
Soil clings to you, bark falls from you,
You rouse and stretch upward, exhaling earth, inhaling sky,
I touch you, and we drift off together like moons.
Earth dips from under.
We are alone in an immensity of sunlight,
Specks in an infinite golden radiance,
Whirled and tossed upon silent cataracts and torrents.
Give me your hand darling! We float downward.
There’s a woman like a dewdrop, she ’s so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart ’s the noblest, yes, and her sure faith’s the surest:
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster,
Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck’s rose-misted marble:
Then her voice’s music … call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s warble!

And this woman says, ‘My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,
Parch’d the pleasant April herbage, and the lark’s heart’s outbreak tuneless,
If you loved me not!’ And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her,
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her—
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!
The window creaked. I heard the breeze

My mind was what I must gently ease



I grabbed a pen, trying to write something worthwhile

I turned on the radio, and cracked a smile



I sat at my desk, thinking of themes

But I drifted off as I wrote, sweet dreams



I went to a land of magic and splendor

Though part of me says I'm just a pretender



It's Spring and I can feel the sun

I can see a swingset, and a child having fun



It got brighter, and the heat rose fast

I wondered how much time had passed



I watched this boy as I sat under a tree

Recalling the way things used to be



I sat for hours until I finally noticed something strange

The season, it began to change



I saw leaves of orange and grass of yellow

But near the tree, just like the other, I saw this fellow



He sits and reads about the future

Feeling the wounds he must one day suture



Finding things he must one day revive

And dying, just to feel alive



I walked up to pat his shoulder

Winter's coming kid, and it will be much colder



And I left the boy with that simple quote

And, before I left, as well, my coat



So I walked as the breeze continued to blow

But soon the leaves turned into snow



The ground turned as white as the sky

When I turned my head and heard a cry



And snow like tears to the earth would douse

And I looked up, and saw a house



I floated to the window and I saw a shadow of someone sleeping

It was a boy, not much older, in his pillow, weeping.



I watched him lay there, feeling dead

I slowly moved and approached his bed



On his table I placed my ring

And told him to hold on until it was Spring



And I whispered everything will be alright

And I gently kissed his head goodnight
Of all the people, I never second guessed your existence in my life.
I was certain, seeing your eyes glisten that darkened night, you wouldn’t betray.
They call me a fool, I plead for them to leave, yet they stay to mock me.
It is my thoughts that torture my days, because they know how naive I became that evening.  
I assumed I knew everything about you,
But I guess I never knew you had more than one shade to your smile.
I knew it was a different grin that evening, maybe one of passion,
Or a smile to hide the fear, knowing there was no turning back.
I never saw that smile again, yet it teases my dreams, turning them into nightmares.
It was not a smile of passion, or even fear.
You were determined to unravel me that night, and showed me by a grin.
You admit you didn’t care about my feelings, my emotions, or even me.
So I warn any girl, innocent and lively,
That you may have more than one shade to your smile,
But you only have one motive behind each of those shades.
You are destruction in its finest appearance.
Contrary to popular belief,
My mouth does not,
Speak to what my mind,
Suggests in a whim.

It rolls around,
Among the many thoughts.
Takes its numbered ticket,
And waits among the others.

Only to be pushed back,
By other thoughts,
More important.
Until I saw you again.

Lost of breath.
Speechless.
Others egg me on,
To speak what I feel.

I cautiously take steps,
Towards you and your beauty.
Nervous.
Shy.

To speak to you,
Was a dream come true.
We laugh.
We kiss.

To speak to you,
That all it takes.
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