You brought me
the galaxies
in the palms of your hands.

You lit a fire in
my heart so intense
that it burned hearing
you say we were a match.

And the words
you spoke to me,
were a melody
that my soul
danced to.

You were like no other
love I've ever known.

(-DF-11/24/16-)

Like the bulls in every existing china shop,
we danced clumsily past midnight.

The soles of our feet sticking
to the hardwood floor of my living room,
twirling, dizzy--
in hopes that if our souls learned how to tango,
minute hands would cease
to spin.

It was holy bliss.
It was the sweat shop
factory of affection.
Our bodies-- luminous in the
palest moonlight, a passerby
might have believed
we were angels.

Even now, as we sit
in the midst of silent tension,
furrowed brows of frustration
with no words left to promenade
out of our jaded bodies,

I watch your chest rise and fall
to the hostile melody of our
fruitless accusations, each breath
a reminder of our dance.

Your soul is still liquid music to my ears.
And as long as it continues to play,
I will stay, the hem of my dress floating in motionless air--
waiting for midnight
to intertwine our silhouettes.

it's strange the rides your mind partakes in while it sits still in your head.
i am unmoving, staring at the endless rows of grey spotted ceiling tiles from a bed, while my mind cartwheels and bursts into flames, cosmic colour, ribbon dancing through its many seasons during my quiet sit down. it swims through galaxies with graceful strokes, leaping joyfully into nebulas and leaving behind a shimmering trail of sparks. it speaks in starlight and dances hand in hand with planets.
the peaceful space of the space in my mind
bursts to life.

Wake me up in the flush of a rainbow eye
I saw it bent through the tunnel I've been screaming off
I'm searching for a glimpse of a morning past
And I found you there
You followed me where I would die in a flash
I'm still here watching you dont you realize
Floating in confusion of absolute time
Now help me out

I've been hurting for a moment that turned me down
In a dimmer light
Not realizing how long it was when
We talked and the universe fussing round
I would die
in a minute

Remember it was spherical
Bounding you and me in the dark
But how we look
You fly away
I'm dying
I know it was theoritical
But I dont dream nor sleep
Fall slow and you've gone
I'm dying

Make my hand
in your grab
Just dont leave
I'll be broken down
and interfering our past
Even if I'd come through a wormhole
Could it be me hugging you alive?

Mother of the Moon,
Shaman of the Sun.
Extracting all the darkness
from the eyes of everyone.
Draining hue from skin,
Soft soulful bones.
Shadows of her velvet cloak
follow footsteps home.
The witch amidst the forest,
The light within our palms.
Dwindling breaths confide
in the cold before the calm.
Bearing portals in her womb,
Maternal one, obtuse and sweet.
A smiling jaw (phenomenal),
will lull your dance of life to sleep.


© 2016 D.M.V

I had a dream about you.

Dancing we were, in front of numerous strangers under bulbs of flaming light that lingered just long enough to see each others face.

My dress was a deep indigo, effortlessly matching your b&w; tux.

The melody of the song allowed us to dance as if we were professing our love for each other through ever step, every glance.

And through out the dance, I hadn't fully studied the crevices of your face until I finally looked closely, for that was when I realized I wasn't dancing with you at all.

I was dancing with him,
and I quite enjoyed the rhythm we swayed to much better than I thought I would.

-Julia Aubrey Rhodes-

Oh,
how your love dances for me.
A dozen roses to you the winner
Of this epic love battle.

Round and round we go,
Twirling, dipping, falling.
Nothing has felt quite as good as you.

Let's waltz together
To the steady beat of our hearts.

Keep hold on the standing bass
and *** *** ba-dum us to a slow dance,
because the two step’s too quick
and I want to hear some sad trumpet improv;

The perfect impression of us in love.

It’s too humid here,
I can see sweat race down well-worn wrinkles
eroded into Ms. Carla from 30 years of cabaret.
She sways on the microphone,
while her deep voice hangs in the air,
fragrant, and ready to stifle the pairs
mixing love and lust beneath her stage

They move,
sweaty and close,
***** and dark,
familiar-passionate
slow,
but furious.

Another evening of Jazz and ***.

So this night passes,
a melody in my head
leading a world within my arms
as we rock,
ba-ba-ba-dummed by the bass.