What are you doing here again?
I'm not your lover and I'm not your friend.
Why are you sneaking round my door?
A familiar face....that I've known before?
And just what do you bring
in offers?

If I do as you'd like then what will become of who I am?
Will I drown in in the deepness of your sea
Or find the very deepest part of me?
Will I feel lost
or will I feel free?
Will I light my soul and keep a smoldering fire?
To fill my heart's deepest desire...
And feel like I cannot get higher?
To the highest place that I can take my myself?

To soothe the deepest ache inside my soul in the deepest deep
You make me nervous
And so I'm intrigued...
So I just might invite you in
As long as not committing sin?
I wonder...

The things that I've been yearning for
You'll release me from this ache I'm sure
And the smell of the sweat and the sweet perfume
A fear embraced of what dangers loom
What it will mean come tomorrow
Could be my delight or such sweet sorrow
When I'm alone again.

Senses I've rarely tapped into before
Just the one time that you rapped at my door
I do not trust you though
Your last visit was so bittersweet
So pardon my bashful and modest retreat
As I feel this all the way out.

If we start with a just a slow sweet kiss...
to find a rumored thing called bliss?
Then I wonder...
if we could we take this...
one moment at a time?

Because before we know it
I could be gone.
Lost in your Temptation

And as you know...
I fear for my salvation.

All Rights Reserved May 26 2016 - Cherie Nolan

It is more than family photos
Hanging on a wall.
It is much more than a garden,
Where as toddlers we may fall.
It is much more than a roof,
Standing over some red brick.
More than a place for us to shelter
Whenever we get sick.
It's more than flowers on a mantlepiece,
And endless cups of tea.
Home is not a place,
Home is letting me be me.

the worst thing I’ve ever done
was letting the world
know that I write,
it’s not the 2am phone calls
asking if I’m okay,
it’s not the regret of
of relationships or
the running away,
it’s the look in my mothers
eyes when I write about dying,
it’s the regard to kin
when holding certain
emotions in,
forging positivity
and relaying
the antiquities
of struggle,
the minuscule
moments of will
drill into minds
painting all kinds
of doubtful abstracts,
creating spousal transacts
of how to fix their son,
it’s not the questions
about what I mean when I
say my skin spits goose flesh
or my eyes wrap yesterday
in spruce mesh that
eventually frays,
it’s the days where
I get kindred
phone calls
wondering if I’ll pick up
because of writing
the night before
stating that
I’m skating
on thin ice,
I dont want them to worry
I’ll be fine,
but for now it’s the pen
that has to unwind
the noose from
confining words
I refuse to say.

Humans
Libraries of living knowledge
Flowing, burning, refreshing.

Even the youngest, have the biggest stories to share
Even the oldest, have the smallest stories to tell

We pull knowledge, from all enviroments
At an uneasy unrest.
From the busy streets
From the dangerous nights
Even from the books, right by the candle light

As we live on, as we grow wise, as we pick up things that we will use all our life

Remember to share. To speak, to mean.
Remember to be happy, through thick, even through thin
Our voices, will live, through years and through ages.
Just remember, tread carefully in yours. Or you might pull something, that might stretch from shore upon shore.

Laying down in deep sleep
I see you
looking at me
from across the room
a holographic image,
as you lay down, too
in your faraway bed
in your faraway room
but your eyes, locked on mine
this is what's close
this is what's true
I feel your gaze
upon my third eye
feel your loving stare
deep inside
it penetrates and weaves its
way between the layers
of my heart
slices gently
tears me apart
being in torrid distance
sometimes hurts
and sometimes
I don't feel it at all
because in a space
beyond the ticking of clocks
in a set of hours
that exists beyond locks
in a private universe
that exists just for us
you are right here
breathing next to me
your chest rising with each
deep, relaxed breath
your mere presence
catching
           my
               fall
and as your eyes
radiate love into mine
from that bed across
the zoneless moon
our hands reach out,
fingers intertwine
two souls soldered
in landscapes separate
yet spanning the waves
across time

(and our nightair kisses
fly like the tiniest of flowers
confetti gliding
voluptuously sweet
and unfolding
in raging, perpetual
         bloom)