Who knew life would last so long.
so tedious and constant in aging.
( birth - one - two - … - dead )
And if someone knew how long it would last,
Why would they sign that contract,
on the dotted line on an oak desk with
all too important looking business men greedily grinning.
(the devils favorite disguise)

Who knew of the beating of the heart-
so exciting and focused on one lovely face.
(or set of lips)
Like a party with a spinning bottle,
Soon to be the pulse of the first date.
And first night cashed in bed,
rolled over from exhaustion- excitement.
(a steady rhythm takes on different meanings here)

Who knew that words would be so tough.
so damnable and lackluster
(until they line up just right.)
And poems a love-hate-multi-night-stand.
where we always bicker and fight,
but always come back for one more line.
or in my case,
nothing at all.

Roses are red, violets are blue
A dinner you promised, just me and you.
Reproving winds lectured me in bites
For my barely-there skirt, and lustful eyes.

Sour cream lathered that oily exterior.
The aftertaste lingered, creating a barrier
Of which soft lips could not break through
Nor embellished flowers or chocolate fondue.

With our stomachs full, with more than just food
You brought me back home with beer-stained shoes.
My mind a fog. The Lamb now waits to be skinned
For the Wolf that set the ****** trap to finally begin.

Virginal blush, tinged with her bruises all blue
A dinner you had promised, just me and you.

Heat Lightening
by Michael R. Burch

Each night beneath the elms, we never knew
which lights beyond dark hills might stall, advance,
then lurch into strange headbeams tilted up
like searchlights seeking contact in the distance . . .

Quiescent unions . . . thoughts of bliss, of hope . . .
long-dreamt appearances of wished-on stars . . .
like childhood’s long-occluded, nebulous
slow drift of half-formed visions . . . slip and bra . . .

Wan moonlight traced your features, perilous,
in danger of extinction, should your hair
fall softly on my eyes, or should a kiss
cause them to close, or should my fingers dare

to leave off childhood for some new design
of whiter lace, of flesh incarnadine.

NOTE: The title is not a typo but a double entendre. Keywords/Tags: sonnet, rhyme, love, lust, desire, ***, petting, necking, parking, date, dating, lovers' lane

I had a date with death.
She was cold, in a warm way.

The way she spake, it was enticing
The way she carried herself.
I fell in love.

I had a date with death.
She was lonely.
But she also saw other people.

I had a date with death.
She stood me up.

I had a date with death.
And i was alone, she was there.
Alone too.
We were lonely, together.

I had a date with death.
I joined her.
And we walked the path.

I went on a date today.
this isn’t going to be a poem
about how I found true love,
or how I met someone and
suddenly my problems all disappeared.

none of that happened.
this isn’t some fairytale and
I won’t sugarcoat my words.
I’m still hurting. I’m still furious
and confused and so, so tired.
these past few months
have not been pretty.
there is no way to
romanticize this pain,
and there is no reason to.

these past few months have been
breakup ***, followed by regret,
and then a rush of hope.
they have been relearning life
and drinking far too much,
blackouts and breakdowns
and *****.

I am healing, and that takes time.
I’m still emotional.

but I went on a date today.
it’s not a remedy for
magically forgetting. I didn’t forget.
it didn’t bring me total closure.

but I laughed today.
I listened today.
I was listened to today.
I talked about myself and my interests,
and my trauma wasn’t a
topic of discussion for the
first time in a very long time.
it was refreshing.

I went on a date today.
this isn’t something that
would be front-page news.
there wasn’t some
earth-shattering, incredible moment.
my life has not changed.

but today I had fun.
I felt relaxed and worry-free

and for the first time
in a very long time,
I went to bed
reflecting on my day
and not about all of
the days I spent
with you.

I’ll be your Dracula,
You know all I’ll need is your heart.
You be the wicked witch,
All you will need is a hooked nose,
‘Cause you already cast your spell on me!

We sat there in silence,
side by side,
hand in hand,
letting the crimson sunset
pour out its last waves of light.
Let it cleanse us of our
misery and hardship.
Tonight is about us, dear,
nothing else is real-
let time stand still.

the better part of last-minute
and i spend it staring at your lips;
the poems spill out of your mouth
and stain my hand-me-down rug;
as if our brokenness is compatible,
my masochism needs company
and you are eager to disappoint.
the tongues and whispers of secrets
in a cyclical nature; i have been here before.
the familiarity the fear the focus:
the fallacy of finding love in an empty heart.

lover thy,
don't know what to do
or say,
im just happy around you