Shapes shifting through the sheets
of paper, in my dreams
soft pillow seams, we move like a gentle
firey breeze -
your shape consumes me.

I have never seen volcanoes, yet my
thoughts erupt in shapes.
What is it to desire a shape ?

A venetian spell of curved brushes to cheeks,
dreaming of the days and weeks I could
lay, still, yet volcanic, staring opposite your face, in embrace and tracing your skin with my finger.

Like a brush stroke,
my muse

what is it to loose the memory of a body?

Every trace and touch
each mahogany blush
within the rush of lust,
a cosmic trust between body to body
and mind, to the Hearts’ justice.

A sketch,
first love.
I cloak and glove the painting of you
moving through new shapes away from
view, yet sometimes with solemn and blue, sly Fate washes water-coloured visions and crimson hues through my mind and i’m reminded of each line, curve and shape.

Oh desire ! What a profound honour
to know a body beyond shape.

Metamorphosis from the start of the day,
January’s promises,
had so much to say.

The beginning of the cycle,
to the end of the new.
The remnant of the spring morning dew
moves summer breeze
into leaves of a green hue,
and the Heartache of July.

The sun rose and set with You,
until it rained
and the skies once again turned a somber shade of familiar blue.

Metamorphosis of the self,
turning like a snake.
Shedding the skin of heartache and
remaking myself, again.

Metamorphosis I bloom and break,
I wither and wake
through the hardships of the year,
taking a new found shape
of me-

The moon wanes and waxes,
while the heart mends and sax’s
continue to play sweet melodies from the month of May,
and we are reminded of the day
that breaks and dawns.

The body yawns
from the weight of the year.

Yet still, the metamorphosis blooms and births
a new beacon of light,
preparing herself for the thirty-first night
and the turn of the calendar, again.

How does one free themselves of Aphrodite’s sly paradox of still loving the one who broke their heart ?

Love that preserves beyond the break
is a measure
of the authentic tether
felt by the depths of the heart.

Every conscious step I make
towards a new future, beyond the girl who
felt like a soulmate,
feels like the break
of a promise.

Pinky swear was the old charming mantra.

I move ahead.
Yet I still have to tread on the familiar grounds we once said
our I love yous.

Memory lane.

Sometimes I choose the painful path,
looking through pictures before Loves pain,
a consolation of sorts
to know it was real
and not that of a dream.

Romeo’s lips uttered dreams are nothing but vain fantasy,
but at least I have the memory.

The ghost of you follows me,
uninvited into my reverie
so vividly
no matter how hard I try to release the heartache of you and me.

I’ll keep trying,
until one day it becomes a fond reminiscent memory of what once was and no longer,
trudging through the graveyard
until the light brings fonder
and my heart may wander anew.

Can a Love song be used twice?
I love you’s and the reminiscent blues,
do the rhythm and blues remember the
ones you loose ?

This reminded me of you.
I use the lyrical hues
of this fine tune to put into words my feelings for you.

Expiry date.

Can a hummingbird still sing
when your number no longer rings?
I wonder
Nat King Cole’s somber stardust melody still
haunts my reverie.

Can I really vow to another with the words I solemnly devoted to my past lover?

As seasons change
so to does my musical range.
Yet a love song , is still a Love song.

To my future love,
at times my hearts desire cannot create words which quantify that;
of a lyrical tune and a lyre.

A Love song.
Love in the present.
Beyond the fond memories of things the lovers dreamt,
Love remains in all things spent
within life’s timely symphonies.

dreamy days
summer
breeze
river walk
try not to sneeze.
talks about the future
can this really be?
forever if that is
make a wish
blow the petals
sweet forest mist.
marriage puppies
and dress rehearsals
chipping teeth and tv commercials
this feels euphoric
can this never end
this feels like love
just around the riverbend.