Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Tara Marie Sep 2021
The light of the Maui moon
The venom of your bite
Lit me inside like fire
Infecting my every inch

Caressing my sunburnt shoulders
Your hands seeking warmth and softness
My hands in your hair and around you
Connected and captivated

Your tongue painted vivid pictures
My back lifted off of our blanket
Sand all around under starlight
The nature of you and me

Emotional ecstasy beaming
Sweat and delirious want
The ocean crashing closer and closer
Moisture thick in the air

I’ll never forget the energy
That flowed so electric between us
I wanted you minute by hour
To be yours naked under the moon
Tara Marie Jun 2014
Silence plays a melody
of toils and years of doom
listening, and beckoning
filling an empty room

A weather new to any age,
an abundance of empty thought
The Woulds and Shoulds are raining
from clouds of memories sought

Plaguing some of purpose
and filling some with fear
making sudden noises
for the loudest minds to hear

Parading round in fervor
and examining the lost
too loud to even recognize
but colder than eyes of frost

He is the oldest raconteur
but somehow a cowardice
of showing no reaction
to the world **aflame in bliss
Tara Marie Sep 2016
You look at the world
Through a plate of glass
Beneath your finger
Passing constantly.

I look at the world,
Gazing at you,
While you're gazing elsewhere,
Wasting precious minutes.
Tara Marie Sep 2014
The waves are like dominos and metronomes.
Your fear plays the tide, and I, the sand.
Tortured simultaneously by blundering blows.
Torn and composed from hard to crisp to soft.
Laying there.
Taking it.
You glide across, pulling back with your constant motion.
Knowing you could drown me,
Collapse my core,
Enthrone my solidity and override it.
Still,
You draw back.
Over again, and I know you can cover me.
Weaken me.
Shatter my grain.
But we are one.
We are what everyone knows us as.
We coincide, collide,
Divide.
The foolish sand and her molder.
Influence, ocean, waves, sea, love
Tara Marie Oct 2016
Piles of papers glaring at me.
Signed, stamped, copied, for time and a fee.
Words and no promises, on the bark of a tree.
While you're somewhere else rapidly growing.

Days pass, we punch clocks, adding the time.
As the papers, they sit in the back of my mind.
She thinks wanting to see you is none but a crime.
While you're somewhere else distantly dreaming.

All the jabber and frenzy of what's wrong and right,
While no one observes our rigorous plight,
The lack of your presence haunts him at night.
While you're somewhere else sharing your laughter.

Your room is filled with your toys and your smiles,
Waiting for you to play in it awhile.
Waging war with the enemy goes on for miles.
While you're somewhere else slowly forgetting.

To say sadness is present does not quite explain.
All the stress, anger, longing inside of his brain.
Constantly trying to distract from the pain.
While you're with those who want to restrain you.

I believe there is good in the hearts of the wise,
Yet, some will use pawns to harvest the lies.
While the ones they need dearly are hung out to dry.
While you're somewhere else coloring pictures.

In the end, we will see you again and again.
No matter how many papers or strokes of a pen.
We love you, bubba, and we WON'T give in.
Cause you're somewhere else, incomplete.
Who
Tara Marie Sep 2014
Who
Who I am
is like
painting
a canvas of
void.

Unaware of color or conflict.

Unsure of significance or emotion.

Blossoming flowers
drip on faces
and cover all the rest.

I sit, I stand.

I gawk at this strange blank canvas.

Seeing beauty, and courage.
Strength, ambition.
Diligence and fervor.

Empty the water cans sit.

Cold, dry brushes in my hands.

A query glistens on my brow.

Kaleidoscopes of beauty
within.

Breaking into patterns and dancing like wildfires in the wind.

This canvas is filling with thought and purpose.

Empty the water cans sit.
Why
Tara Marie Jul 2019
Why
Why are you crying?
Did the sudden arrival of what you wanted
cause your waterfall?

Why are you saddened?
Did the expected confront you with fear
that you can't take away now?

Why are you ashamed?
Did your yearnings amount to nothing
and your disappointment overcome existence?

Why are you lonely?
Were your wishes all exploited
and your hopes turned to ash?

Why are you worrisome?
With your filthy consequences;
did you not expect to weep?

Why are you anything?
Don't you feel the worthless pigments
of your skin, soaking in?
Thoughts at 11 am
Tara Marie Dec 2015
Strange feelings swim inside me,
confusing and alert.
Prodding me to make a move;
assume, affirm, assert.

Yet these tones only arise
within the realm of me.
I'm building solid structures
from only misery.

Misery imagined
Misery, elusive
Why do I question everything
being inconclusive  

Like happiness backfiring
scrutinizing itself
to pick apart perfection
and pity all the wealth

To find a problem buried
where graves have not been laid
and ravish in the thinking
I should be getting paid

I'll sit and whisper to myself
I should be getting more
of everything completely
as if love is but a chore

He tells me things I know.
The things my heart is saying.
Why does the mind escape the heart
all certainty decaying?

But he is right
and I am wrong
I love all of this man.
Expectation kills livelihood
He does everything he can

Overthinking hurts
when none of it is true.
We cannot build reality,
fake disappointment--brewed.

So holding hands with him
and I love you's ARE enough.
The feeling IS the knowing.
Uncertain, true and tough.
Tara Marie May 2019
Swift breezes rush through me,
over my hands softly,
under the hairs on my skin
as if romantically embracing a part of me.

Notes and phrases playing loudly
seem to beckon someone within.
Come out. Remember. Be free again.
A glance connects and quickly dodges..

The road, so black with rubber,
so hard with fortitude
seems to soften like waves as we glide along, flying.

I feel winded,
straining to say simple answers,
knowing there is a danger
with this electric current, wading.

Unasked questions, unacknowledged thought,
sparks of insecurity and reckless ambitions.
An innocent touch means more, a song means more here..

Flying,
driving,
on this road,
just you and I.

— The End —