As we’re lying down I breath in your scent, the scent of your cologne, your heavy musk.
It fills my lungs with each breath I take, like the way baked goods do when they come fresh out of the oven.
Together we feel each other’s skin.
I trace the outside lines of your soft yet firm muscle until I make my way up to your face; one that resembles mine.
One that has dark spots and whiteheads.
One that makes us so frustrated in our skin but we share that.
So I place my hand on this skin, the skin that resembles mine and caress it like it’s this perfect plum that I’m about to take a bite out of.
My eyes are locked with yours, as if we are looking right through them, right into our skulls.
Trying to read each other’s mind.
Ironically we are both thinking the same thing.
I pull in, you pull in, we pull in and take a deep juicy bite out of each other.
I feel your tongue and you feel mine as we taste the juices we give to each other.
Our hearts, they beat on a time that only loves sets.
A beat that feels so great, so great our hearts connect.
Our lips disconnect and we’re back to laying down.
Trying to catch our breath, we breathe in and breathe out, breathe in and breathe out.
Until the point where I’m breathing what you let out and I’m breathing recycled air.
That same air, the air of your musk or cologne, the air that feels like baked goods, when they come fresh out of the oven.
Our eyes connect back to each other, looking right into our skulls.
But this time we know what we’re thinking.

And we’re thinking “I love you”.

Amanda M Brown copyright ©️ 2019

It Was the Wind. I.

It was the wind
    That comes through me

1,000 songs of voices singing

penetrating to

my bones

       incomprehensible

stories
       all electricity
       and fire

and I could ride you
blind
          through miles of time

never truly knowing

the words with which

to make you known to me

but we I feel

though not I see

It was the wind

That wore a

whole in me.

 








It Was the Wind. II.

         It was the wind
         ceaseless howling
         a never ending
                  cacophony
               of sad stories

         and the unreasonable

         wear

         of time

                  blowing deep

         sanding down my memories

         where-ing away my

         mind

         everything gives


                  to the wind

         find me here
                 If the wind hasn’t

         yet picked

         me

         clean.

 









It Was the Wind. III.

































                                                                          . . . it was the wind.

Meaningful connection.

5 seconds for thought.

Don't rush.

5 seconds for thought.

Contemplate.

5 seconds for thought.

Speak. Express. Connect from the soul.

5 seconds for thought.

We are more than words.