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Emily Miller Apr 2018
Candlelight dancing off the rippling bathwater,
The steam rising off it with an aroma
So sweet,
From the herbs steeped in it,
I’m a goddess,
An empress,
And my nectar is the red wine
Chilled to my preference,
The delicate stem dangling from my fingertips
And I watch.
As the coolness drifts off the glass in lazy tendrils,
Dancing over the surface of the heated water.
I part my lips and exhale gently onto the curve of it
Until the twirling fingers of cold opposing the heat
Swirl desperately,
My breath is the master,
The air the puppet,
And I tilt my head at the first notes of a song that draws me back,
Back to a liason in the dark
With an exotic lover,
The French words slipping over my skin
As silkily as his lips did,
Each verse reminding me of how we celebrated those verses then,
Raucously
Remorselessly
Hedonistically,
Almost as I do now,
With my ambrosia and my rose petals dancing among sprigs of herbs on the water,
With an orchestra hailing my memory,
All by the light of countless,
Flickering
flames.
Louie Joe  Aug 2018
Irony
Louie Joe Aug 2018
I dwell again in these thoughts,
That awoken me to a dream:
About daylight and darkness
And how they cannot be,
About the empty and half filled
And everything in between

Open to possibilities
Exempting the impossible
****** me with sweet false hope
In a trance of questions
Where to whom, what is why?
Lust for truth insatiable

Be it then, cause nowhere now
The bitter sweet liason
To believe the passion of belief
Betrayal to the mind, unfaithful
Placebo of the midnight moon
I surrender to reason

Tell me spoken silence now
For maybe later heard somehow
Secrets cannot bleed more lies
The honest gleaming in those eyes
This is the dream I dread is not
These are the thoughts I think of lot

— The End —