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The desert sky's sand is stuck
under your fingernails and in my hair
your kisses are like the coast's sharp winds
and we're lightheaded from the sun
I walk barefooted
through white airport halls
looking back a thousand times
so often, feels like I'm twirling
and I never see your face
you're intertwined with the land
that is so different to you than to me
our travels are scratched knees and spice
our love feels as empty
as the forgotten streets
of european capitals now
and our home in my head is blank
like a page in a notebook
that has never been filled
we locked memories in amulets
and threw them out to sea
from ferries
that we fled from ourselves with
never once looked into your eyes,
really looked
all I see is the black pavement of the streets
you're summer that lasts all through winter
betraying me of snow
you're a diary lost
in Central Station
that I will never find again
I'll jump the train 
and I'll look back a thousand times
not finding your face
my mind spinning,
off again.
Sun comes up,
she goes down
on some upended main drag,
if i were an archaeologist
i still wouldn't dig this place,
every other day she dwells
in tedious, empty cafés,
but on the weekends she flashes
her "license and registration"
to oncoming traffic,
hoping for grifted furlough
to wear as silken, shiny beads,
and so we ride
this merry-go-round,
because moving in circles
is far better than being trapped in a square,
we've stopped climbing the calendar
in search of higher elevation,
she used to pour it on thick,
stirring drinks inside my head,
i used to shake
worries from her hair,
now with bitter orange marmalade
low in the sky, and stacked against us,
it's home before dark,
lest our eyes open wide to see
we are nothing more
but strangers at sundown.
South City Lady Feb 2021
caught within the rain,
      i taste its gentle texture
as tears upon porcelain cheeks
such an intimate exchange
                    i can scarcely breathe
or audibly express
sensual aromas
through words' simplicity

I have spent a lifetime
in silences. [unspoken]
traumas committed
   against my tongue;
  for years,    
            I heaved snow against
my chest
       cultivated forbidden
territories so frightfully
                   polar, i can no longer . . .
handle their sharp-shapes
without the ecstasy
     of frostbite

through winter's moonlit veil,
i sense     your heat,
a telepathy of tenderness, hands coaxing
me from murky waters;
                                            come for me
            your prodigal soul-  
    rekindle these heated
          unclasp my mind,
unfasten the sash
restraining these chapped lips,
          thaw each
finger within
your eyes'   firelight,

let me feast
upon your mellow night,
clothed in laughter,
        wounds exposed
as damp rose petals,
            pull me toward
your heart's
shelter, so this loneliness
    may find
                      (at long last)
a nested branch of rest
within the wingspan
  of your nocturnal song
A love story, a fantasy piece collected from the cold embers of poetic silence when the muse is mute, and all I long for is her conversation through my pen once again.
South City Lady Feb 2021
— "That great abyss that exists between loving and imagining that one loves."   -@Esu Emmanuel

the most hopeful wish we store
in satin-boxed hearts
is the unquenchable bliss
that longing will flourish
into staying, that cravings
will reach beyond passion's
momentary caress nestling
into late latte mornings
where his hand fills the contour
of your safekeeping
& sincerity collects upon
tongues soaking skin
in the stillness
of velveteen rain

Happy Valentine's Day 💕
South City Lady Feb 2021
pain is temporary
still I crave its fuel
feeding hunger, burning
through darkness,
wafer moon teases
naked trees
blanching sleek limbs
running away
from desperate crowds
that sting my senses,
from curses singeing
midnight nerves,
I am
a warrior
in No Man's Land
South City Lady Feb 2021
those hollow mornings hewed
in darkness, thick
with silence and self-doubt
daily vigils dedicated toward
an unknown uncurling from inside
each desperate season,
a panorama of your heart's tears
releasing past mistakes,
protecting, reinforcing,
curing your soul to receive
an untold beauty,
the resplendent glaze
emblazoned from within
we are in a constant state of becoming and such a glorious process it is when we stand apart and witness its evolution, its unpredictable beauty which was intended all along.
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