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your eyes don't change color no, but go from
                               stone to amber

You melt away (from cold)
             yes, you so soft

Strong in your core
  h  a r  d   h  e a d e d
                
               h o t b l o o d e d

kindhearted, you become honey,
          a n t i s e p t i c  a n d
s  o o  t h i n g,
       in warm water.
and no harm done.
Jazzy-Goats May 29
You will never see
How your smile lights up the room

                                                 However

                                                        ­                                           You always see
                                                             ­        How your smile lights up my heart
So it's official I am continuing "her" series.
freyja May 29
I often wonder what it must be like
to not feel constantly isolated
by those who claim to claim you,
so-called alliances crumbling
when they realize your nature cannot be changed.
there are no rainbows in pastel skies,
and they love us until we are no longer PG
no longer PC.
love is love until you love like me
Kitten Yvad May 24
I catch your eyes seeing eyes that are mine
I look away
Heart sputters and you yawn
My palms are scraped

Opening my sore hit scraped tender hands
to you

I’d dared myself to be vulnerable
couldn’t touch you but you made it feel good





“here’s what it’s been like.
I know it’s hard for you too.”
My palms unclenched
“But hold them, don’t hit them”

just want you to kiss me.
Prayers. lots of little prayers
prayers like kisses all over my palms
Kitten Yvad May 23
Thick darkness and a quiet dawn
blare through my indifferent window
this much I might expect from a premature sunrise

And my window, giving as it is,
would make no attempts to
shelter me from a sun that maybe
says things too harshly

This quiet to me is
Soft warm welcoming
Dark and quick to accept a mind
that for the time being
will gladly perform it's own sunrise
confluence of peach and gold burst

My window makes no efforts
to censor a light coming strangely
from its other side
Jazzy-Goats May 20
I wanted her
I needed her
And now I have her
This is a continuation of the original poem titled her. I'm debating on possibly making a series about "Her". And no I am not planning on saying the word "her" all the time.
First, Mother Nature met Diana.

Mother nature, autonomous woman
Place the elixir of life onto my tongue,
Three drops, put your mouth above mine
Let your saliva drip in
Touching the roof of my mouth.

I’ll now tilt my head back,
Choking as it runs down my throat,
A beautiful agony, as always
Into my body,
Down to my stomach,
The tonic of life,
Our life.
Now we shall create.
Amen.

Second of all, with fountains of love, they created a child. They went on to call her Rosina.

let your bees come in,
pollinating, creating life
but only under my terms,
only when i choose
to let them feast upon me

let a small peach form
on the branches of my womb
but let her core be poisonous
hydrogen cyanide,
to keep thieves at bay

if my body is a garden,
let it be ripe,
ever growing, ever flowering
a stretch of soft grass,
for us to lay our heads

mother, mother, daughter
the heavens will sing.
my antique beauty, my china doll,                                                                          
i remember your snaggle-toothed smile,
your gently crooked nose to match.                                                                      
my wayward, moorish sweetheart,
always, you said, or at least,
until death do him part.

yet still, if he is safe and well  
i still cannot help but wonder,
if you could set this swallow loose from your ribcage,
and let us reside once more in our heart,
once more, the way He intended.

i’ve seen the photographs,
sent in dog-eared envelopes, careless.
when did you become so tightly wound,
nothing like the cloth angel I remember
(your dresses flowing in between your legs,
as you ran up the hills before me).

if only you’d let me build you again,
from scratch, my whittling knife tracing
gently, etching the skin that was once mine.
if only you’d pry the paintbrush from his hands,
please, just place it back into my rightful palms.

for i could paint colour back on your cheeks,
bring what he lost in you back to life
for man always cracks and breaks the rosy flesh,
  when he decides you are a wife.

for now i shall keep you in a glass cabinet in my head,
instead of – for the last twenty years – a casket by my bed.
safe, warm, admired, just for me to see
nothing like the princess locked in this tower,
that he so longs you to be.

but, please, please, write back.

tell me what it would take
for me to say, for me to do,
for you to open those glass eyes again and see
that perhaps this rosenkavalier
that you’ve always longed for, might just be a she?
cat eye make up after a break up
on my bed she crawls
in my back her claws
I will pet your *****-cat
where to find me at?
between her hidden fur
who said only kittens purr?
spent so many nights awake
exploring the city at night it’s not the same as during the day
Empire State Building is brighter
and women spread their legs open wider
perhaps, that’s the whole point of it
the wider you spread, the wilder it gets
city love is acrobatic
do the slips but don’t be dramatic
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