“I ought not to speak,
I ought not to eat what my wealthy heart deserves,
I ought not to be seen anywhere
But with my wealthy heart,
I am rich.
I ought not be always right,
But  with my wealthy heart,
I am not wrong”

There's so many things I want to say.
So so very many feelings to write about and get off my chest.
The worlds spinning way too fast for me to follow.
Oh well, I guess. Sometimes there just isn't anything left to say.

Under a simple smile
Screeching thoughts occur
Here is the dark calling out
Behind this blinding mask
For the light is a rare sight
It was a trap.
Couldn’t see through.
I never was really running from fear

I wasn’t hiding from the darkness,
But rather cowering from the lashes
It dangerously crippled me
Tearing down who I was inside
I don’t have the will to say,
The things you need to hear
Because I know I will be wasting my breath anyway
A gaze of pity
Is something I no longer give.

I didn't
have to say
"help me"
because you already
knew what to do.

They only talk at night
all else is quiet
facing each other
at more than two sword lengths.

Opposite sides of the House
on opposite walls they parley.
Seeing them during the day
you'd swear they smiled above you.

Wishing you cou could have eavesdropped
learned more of what they think.
They stand aside from you in that gallery.

Someone please save me
I'm starting to choke
All the words I never said
Are getting caught in my throat.

He's gone - dead,
memory redefined.
What feelings will survive?
Who will remember?

Formal, frozen inexpressive
faces - relatives and friends,
people I've not seen for years.
Shuffling funeral shoes,
nervous, rehearsing things to say.

Others never seen before,
his networks seem intact,
mine now declined. Perhaps
I don't know he who goes there.
Pass friend.

Lazy Love

They wake –well, ‘wake’ is not the word.
Lids refusing opening, muscles slack,
Wakefulness alone marking awareness.
Arm reaching left, remote device bedside,
Sliding, a mere automaton
Reaching near, she presses On;
Lo, light, sound and the television.
Still, the eyes are shut,
Yet something’s wakened.
Lying still, an arm embraces;
Bodies in slow motion snake-en.
Unidentifiable, un-nameable, encased
In one another’s arms, things happen -
Young, fresh, hippy Happening
Straight from the ‘Swinging Sixties’.
Here’s a pair way past their 60’s
Rising high above the years,
Skies above their years
Entranced, in love, enlivened,
Eyes blinked open where
The mini-moans of pleasure bear
Some mini-tears of joy.

Lazy Love 7.23.2016
Circling round Eros II; Love Relationships II;
Arlene Corwin