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Shrinking Violet Feb 2015
"I'm in love with you," her aristocrat says,
And the girl tries to hide her dismay.
"Why do you say that?" asks the girl
"because you're new and old" says the Earl.
"You love me because I'm a novelty?
Just because I'm pretty and not like other royalty?"
And she feels her heart begin to ache
And she curses herself for being a flake.

But then he merely laughs and draws
her hand into his and with a little pause,
says: "The taste of you, the smell of you, all these things are new,
and this is why, my Sweetest one, I cannot stop kissing or touching you.
But deep down Dearest, you should know
that as sure as the Kilimanjaro snows-
That even despite my young ******* son
Or the fact that my leg's shot through
and the ghost of an ex-wife hovers over me
and the skeletons won't stop tumbling out-
Still and always you are known to me.
It is as if we had never been strangers, see.
By the crook of your smile and the laugh in your eyes,
You couldn't hide from me, not in a disguise.
And this is how I'm in love with you, Sweet,
Newest yet oldest lover-friend, with you, I've found my own two feet."
And people wonder why romance novels are such hot sellers.
I think it's the whole idea about knowing that with the other person, you've found home. Also, loving the ridiculous situations our leads tend to find themselves in.
Shrinking Violet Jan 2015
They say if you meet Death today,
he'll take your breath away.
Shrinking Violet Jan 2015
Dearest, you who have moved with me
as the waves to the pull of the moon,
You are leaving me now.
I know I am not the only moon to your sea.
There is another who sways you to her tune.
Her name is scrawled in the furrows of your brow.

But the tears in your eyes and your heartache
Should they not be mine?
I who live on this island, immortal and alone?
You are leaving me a prisoner in your wake,
You with your talk of crooked highlands and fragrant pine
And rugged crags. Dangerous talk, I should have known.

Now I close my eyes and dream
Not of the sweetness of the cypress
Nor of familiar violet-eyed meadows,
But of birds that spin and gleam
high above the land's caress.
You have turned me into another Echo

Stupidly repeating the names of places and people I will never know.
"Calypso is remembered most for her role in Homer's Odyssey, in which she keeps the fabled Greek hero Odysseus on her island, Ogygia, to make him her immortal husband. According to Homer, Calypso kept Odysseus prisoner for seven years ... During this time they sleep together, although Odysseus soon comes to wish for circumstances to change, and longs for his wife Penelope who is at home in mountainous Ithaca..

His patron goddess Athena asks Zeus to order the release of Odysseus from the island, and Calypso is told to set Odysseus free, for it was not his destiny to live with her forever."

"The strong god glittering left her as he spoke,
and now her ladyship, having given heed
to Zeus's mandate, went to find Odysseus
in his stone seat to seaward —tear on tear
brimming his eyes. The sweet days of his life time
were running out in anguish over his exile,
for long ago the nymph had ceased to please.
Though he fought shy of her and her desire,
he lay with her each night, for she compelled him.
But when day came he sat on the rocky shore
and broke his own heart groaning, with eyes wet
scanning the bare horizon of the sea."
Shrinking Violet Jan 2015
There you watch the movies
and you see them, the leads,
holding hands and walking off
into the sunset.
I wonder what it is like
to walk off into the sunset,
to feel like all your worries are going to be
dissipated by the sun's golden heat
and you're gilded and beautiful, heart soft,
and you think: this is as good as it gets
but then all of a sudden someone shouts "Sike!
it's just a movie set"
and then you realise that tan was fake
and the actors never liked each other anyway.
I tell you it makes my heart ache,
those deceiving sunsets by the bay.
Tryin' to write a series of poems based on specific emotions.
Shrinking Violet Jan 2015
Trees rearing their boughs in the wind
laughing through rustling leaves,
Water dancing through drain pipes
like gurgling brooks.
The sharp thrill of a far-off bicycle bell,
Whistling blue skies,
Cool stone floors and sun-scented skin:

Soon the world will bring
whispers of spring.
Shrinking Violet Jan 2015
A cat curled in the rug of my soul
snug and purring,
licking sweet cream off its paws.
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