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Zywa Aug 2019
The deer is close by,

it breathes and looks, motionless –

I feel being seen.
"Dat het dier je zag" ("That the animal saw you", 2019, Marjoleine de Vos)

Collection "Inmost"
Your voice changed my mood like a chameleon. Flooding my mind in deep nostalgia, I am surrounded by reminders of what pleasures we partook, we indulged, we unapologetically did, we confidently said and we therapeutically wanted. We ravaged, we begged, we, were, human.

Your scent still leaves a trace that even a bloodhound could find. Roses vanilla and a hint of cinnamon; my tongue tingles from the pleasure of closing my eyes, reanimating the masterpiece that went down at your unguarded borders.

But, I kept it cool when you introduced your new boyfriend.

'Hello this is__'

I replied 'What's up, the names Kitarō'

But as I spoke, I could tell we were harmoniously in sync when he called out your name twice; no response escaped your lips.

The third time triggered your body to respond; when your crimson lips were finally free from it's white prison it was photographically known of what was unsaid on your beautiful luscious red painted canvas

I knew you wanted me.
Brent Kincaid May 2019
In the dark of night
I have seen a wild sight
That made some say
“That’s not really right!”
When visitors go walking
Through walls an such
Reality is far out of touch,
And good common sense
No longer means that much.

A logical person, that is me,
With no love for surreality,
Instead an intense inner drive
For a world of abject sanity.
Until, to my upset and surprise,
A kind of person, before my eyes
Appeared to spiritually enchant me.
Surely a ghost and not a disguise.

On a pleasing evening walk
I spent a while in chatty talk.
The fellow so handsome
I could find no way to balk.
He told me an interesting tale;
A wandering life of freedom and jail
And meeting other vagabonds
Riches and fame both no avail.

We shared about the weather
We talked for hours together
I noticed his suit was three pieces
Wool plaid instead of leather.
I am sure I was quite obvious,
He couldn’t have stayed oblivious
Of the way I was wanting him
My face gave away my wishes.

He said he had to go quite soon
And my heart, a burst balloon
Also showed on my sad face.
Smiling, he pointed to the moon.
From his lapel he took a shiny pin
And fixed to to my collar and then
Smiling, he kissed me warmly
Which set my head into a spin.

Then, his colors began to glimmer,
The ancient clothing started to shimmer
And my lovely suitor began to fade.
My passion for him soon left to simmer.
Because like a camera trick he was gone
And I was left on my own to move on
And face the facts that I was looking at air,
Just me and a memory on the city lawn.

I questioned myself and my sanity too.
What else could any sane person do
When faced with such a visible mystery?
How could any of this have been true?
I looked down to my collar and there
Was that pin this ghost had pinned where
I could not deny his existence was real.
So, perhaps you see why I had to share.

Brent Kincaid
5/16/2019
Twaffle Apr 2019
I looked up the sky,
hearing your voice as if it was my sweet lullaby.
Reminiscing the days we've spent,
imagining what it could have been.

Our sweetest "I love you's",
turned to such bitter "I hate you's".
I could have stayed if you want me to,
But as long as you refuse to understand me, this will not work between us two.

The lesson I learned is not fearing to love again,
but rather that some people are worth letting go despite the pain.
Moving on is the hardest thing yet the most wisest thing to do.
At night I close my eyes to see beauty,
and then in the morning I open them.
This is the essence of being awake—
to open your eyes to live your dreams, or
live without them because you don’t need them.

All the world’s beauty to appreciate
includes the beauty worth dreaming about,
and beauty about which I dared not dream.
There is beauty in darkness and in light—
who am I not to fall in love with it?

I’ve dreamt of beauty I could not describe,
but nor can I describe beauty I’ve seen.
To encounter beauty is irony—
it stops my heart and makes me feel alive,
touched and moved by ethereality.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
VineBabe Jan 2019
It started with a hug
years of desire and affection
summed up in one simple
heart warming gesture.

Foreign sensations
a little fumbling to find my Mark
we fit right in.

Perfect opposites
the Lark and the Owl
Cold and Warm
the Neophyte and the Teacher

Forgotten fears
and new found peace.
We must meet again.
i had moved from the bedroom a few nights earlier
i knew i wasn't escaping the giant red spider made of neon
or the spirit that awakened me by slipping into the other side of my bed
or the whispers just before fading off
no, i wasn't escaping at all
and on this night i was made aware of this fact
overtly
first the hair on the arm
then the awareness
the clarity and cognizant knowledge
of someone else
next to me
have you ever touched a low voltage fence
that surround livestock or horses
imagine a finger with that voltage
touching your ankle
then your knee
before ending at your wrist
this was no nervous twitch
no dream state imagined psychotic episode
this was my spirit friend telling me
you cannot run
you cannot hide
and you can no longer deny
my presence
this is my home
and you are my guest
now
sleep tight
I lived for 2 years in a renovated library that was built in the late 1800's. there is more to the story that I cannot reveal at this time. I am currently working on a book that is an autobiography with emphasis on my spiritual experiences among other phenomenon that came my way.
Brynn S Dec 2018
Shine against cool winter’s skin
Breath in place of crackling voice
The room has been awoken with footsteps
Behind a veil of black the eyes are left hushed
She felt him, electricity buzzed
Silently
The motions felt swift, though lingered on cress
Little glimpses, flashforwards to each motion
Sparks
Electric candlelight burns at edge
The eye of the hurricane ascended
Lifted
She felt him, his hands like silk
His touch greeted her, she fell
Into the skeleton of the room
Confined to their space of absolute
Stars outlined edges, moments left to soak
She could see without sight
Each spin of the record
Each hum of the base
Comforted by quilt, entangled in skin
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