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I watch the yellow grasslands growing slow,
safe inside my window frame where heartbreak can not reach.
I'll remain the captured queen silently content with my small space.
My conscious clean, no blood to stain.

The golden beast of the sahara soaks in the open fields.
Afraid of no one and nothing but hunger.
Crowned long ago, his reign will outlast the wars, the floods, the drought.
Hands enormous enough to ****, gentle enough to love.

I remain, eyes fixed on the beast as he belts a roar.
The sound vibrates my glassy outlook, coaxing a scream of my own.
Salty tears and shuddered cries, break the crusted lips.
Pain erupts, long lodged deep in the gut.
The broken wail of majesty, shakes lose the inner me.
I sat with my Lord under
a shaded oak tree in sweet solitude
a cool breeze blew through the halo of His hair
and the butterfly flutter of His soft saffron robes
gently blessed the pining earth
every now and then the intoxicating aroma of jasmine
wafted from His holy skin
luminescent swans in His lotus orbs, floating on
the pure, pellucid streams of Eternity
sailed straight towards me as we gazed
transfixed into each others flying saucer eyes
He laughed at my dazzled enchantment
and whispered in coaxing tones
"Sing for me little one"
pressing the melodious murali flute to His
dainty lips
transported us to the Highest Heavens.......
When did we go

    from short "hello"s sitting at gym tables,
        to carved initials in date night tables?

    from formal handshakes,
        to slipping your hand into mine every time we wake throughout the night?

    from nonchalant nods and casual smiles,
        to melodramatic sulking on the couch
            and cuddles that test just how much
                of you I can hold all at once
                    curled up in a ball?

When did we go

    from stilted conversation
        to discussing the entirely vast pitfalls of the Australian education system
            watching a Ted talk that-- SHH be quiet or we will miss this part!

..

When did we depart from the logical and begin navigating the magical?

    from stubbornness
to "sorry"s

    from minimal communication
to domestic allocation

    from "your house"
to "Let's go home. "

..

When did we cross the line of inhibitions?

..

it feels almost as if
we are slowly, gently,
teasing love out of each other

softly coaxing
the footfalls of a timid deer
leaves crackle underfoot
but it doesn't *****
only ever moving closer

we lift each other higher
as if where we once were
is a devastating flood
both unwittingly escaping

I'm afraid to return to the water
I don't want to loosen my grip
    for fear of falling
        for fear of losing contact
I've only just learnt how to look you
    in the eye...

Now we hold onto each other,
striving to reach new altitudes,

see;

I choose you.
Vulnerable moments.
Before my brother grew up and forgot the colors of the sky,
He shared with me a secret.
That to become invisible, one only needs to climb,
For most adults have forgotten the shape of the world
Beyond their shoelaces.

Barren, winter-worn branches stretch gray
Against the timid rays of the springtime sun,
Coaxing forth tiny, vibrant leaves that
Will age to weave themselves into the walls of
The sanctuary I inherited from my brother.

Wedged between the highest limbs,
I disappeared.
Peering between the wrestling leaves
Of my favorite maple tree,
I marveled at all I could not see,
Reaching out to trace the sharp indigo mountains
From which mystic creatures rose
To claim the expanse of my imagination.
Here, I lost myself
In realms of endless fantasy.

Now, the seasons cycle past, each spring
Rebuilding the leaf-bricked castle
Of my childhood, but
The creatures I once knew have faded from existence,
For I, too, am forgetting the colors of the sky.
Ash Aug 2018
Am at this edge
Looking down at beautiful  clouds,
Tired of wondering,
How it feels to  ,fly with my generations eagles,
How it feels to ,breath the top air,
How it feels to,stay full because am always hungry,
How it feels to ,have my hands for wings,
How it feels to ,use my dear friend fear to get me there,
Because fear is,my dear friend who drove me here.

I see this beautiful people, flying above me,
So beautiful,so bold,larger than life as they eminate love,
I hear voices, saying just jump,
Take this risk,Fly with us we will teach you,
For there are many who you will help, just jump,
Fear my driver,my friend,
Took a plunge I heard him squeal,
I don't see him flying though,
Neither did I hear him fall,
But I can feel him take control now,
Giving me excuses not to jump,
Offering a ride back,
To my comfort zone home

Thank you fear,
For driving me here,
I don't want a ride ,
I'll take the plunge,
I won't close my eyes,I'll keep them wide,
Stalling,like a bullet will rob my time,
I'm burning the brigdes by this, I don't care,
I'll hit the ground running,
Or spread this hands, coaxing the birds,
Fear my friend,some times my coward friend,
Hop on my back seat,
You've drove me forso long,It's my turn now,
Your my friend,I won't cast you aside,
So buckle up, collect  the memories as I drive.
Sometimes we get stuck in wrong situations,at that point time due to our animal instincts our emotions and brains combine creating this illusion called fear,Fear in turn triggers the fight or flight and now it's up to your brains conditioning to pick one fear will give you a ride to whichever you choose,This are not the only options though because if you have ever run from what every problem it is  you wear running from,It might be addiction, a bad marriage,failure in any dimension of your life you name it,if you get to a state of fear your mind will give you solutions what you should have done,what you can still do,how you can fix it,how you can learn from it and again Solutions but most often this same fear can hold you back,it's ironic like that it gives you a solution then holds you back showing you everything that could go wrong so your brain and your soul are in a battle one wants to go ahead use this solutions when the other is visualizing all the ways everything could go wrong .I've found myself in this kind of situations a lot.So I wrote this to just when I was about to make a life changing decision yes it was out of fear but it is the best choice I have no regrets.Fear is my friend even though I have to put it on a leash sometimes
Midnight Rain Oct 29
i'm still coughing up dried leaves
from last autumn,
coaxing out those last goodbyes
before my breath runs cold.

if i'm telling the truth, i'd tell you that
it stills hurts,
that sometimes during the nights
i forget where i am and

i think of you breaking, again and again
and it kills me like it killed you.


and all i can do is
scream half-asleep begging for something
for some change i know i won't get.


but i can't say that,
instead i tell you that this is all
a process.
everything eventually heals.
every loss, that pierces your heart like a
bullet shot twice,
heals.

Ghazal Apr 26
A tiny bundle covered in teddy-printed pyjamas,
He fidgets restlessly on the panel of the giant machine,
Preparing him for the scan is my most basic task of the day
Yet the most annoying one, because I cannot get away
Till he is asleep enough to not be afraid
Of entering into the mouth of that daunting cave,
Treating a child is so very difficult I feel,
No matter how detached you try to be and see
him as a "case", how do you neglect the truth that,
A being not abled enough to even climb out of the cradle,
Has to parent a disease that gnaws at him day after day?
I shake off such aberrant emotions and join his coaxing mother,
I know what she would really wish for at the moment would be,
To scoop him into her arms and lull him off to sleep,
But she has to be the rock she never wanted to be,
The baby had moved the last time, this one has to be error-free
So, allowed by her to take his cannulated hand in my gloved one,
I give the magic drug a carefully measured plunge
Into veins that are too little to bear such brunt,
Yet have been forced to endure this pain that can never be considered
Fair!
We two women watch over him, transfixed,
Noting his every sigh, his every twitch-
The Mother, anxious, cupping his now limp hands only with
The embrace of her eyes,
And I, the Doctor, though following my medical instinct, watching for
His breaths, with each chest rise,
Also find myself enchanted by the mysterious state this child is in,
Is it a state of dreaminess? Or of dreamlessness?
Is he floating into a dark endless sky? Or is he navigating between
Silver-illuminated stars?
What is the meaning of the half smile on his face?
Is he envisioning a world where he is happy,
Sans needles making insensitive designs into his vulnerable skin,
Sans masked doctors promising they wouldn't make him cry,
Sans missed school days and birthday parties,
Sans heated fevers creeping into his bones each night?
Minutes pass and we are broken out of our respective reveries
His fingers have started to weakly trace the red beams of light,
His voice has begun to coo indistinct chatter still unshaped by civilisation,
Its tone and urgency getting louder and surer,
And before he begins to frantically search for his caregiver,
A little more magic will be needed before completion.
I re-enter the glass cabin and inject again into his system,
A last few moments of painlessness and oblivion,
The gaze becomes dazed again, the smile reappears,
His mind comfortably wanders back
Into a calm nothingness and silent, numbed peace.
"The scan has concluded without event", I make a file note,
While the images on the screen begin to light up with disease.
Richie Vincent Aug 2018
It’s 6:47am on a Monday morning on I-71 south towards Cincinnati and I’m driving in the middle lane entirely surrounded by semis and service trucks and out of nowhere, like it was some miracle act of God, it starts pouring down rain so hard that all of the traffic stops in the height of morning rush hour, everyone’s radios playing morning talk shows so loud it vibrates the ground our tires are on and everyone’s coffees move back into their hands from their cup holders, I guess we’re all just trying to wait it out right now

I guess I have no choice but to wait it out right now, he says, hoodie wrinkled, two all nighter’s deep and still no passing grade, standing outside of the campus Starbucks, as it’s pouring down rain

I guess we’ll have to wait it out, says my sister to an 8 year old me, as I wait on the curb of our neighborhood for the ice cream truck, no matter how disfigured the spongebob popsicle’s face looks by the time I get it in my hands, and no matter the fact that I never understood that his eyes were bubblegum

I guess I have to wait it out, my father says, watching my grandmother lying in her hospital bed, getting tests taken for her potentially and what would be proven deadly, lung cancer,
Her eyes glossed over and her lips still yearning for the pull of her usual afternoon pack of cigarettes

You just have to wait it out, says my grandpa, standing next to me in his garden, after having helped me plant my first tomato seeds,
The summer has felt like forever at 10 years old, I wish it stayed that way, and I wish I liked tomatoes

I guess we just have to wait it out now, the head of police says to his crew of swat members, after having everything fail towards coaxing a young high school boy out of his boarded up bedroom, the shotgun he killed his ex girlfriend with, still in his arms

Well, we’re just going to have to wait it out,
I think to myself as I sit in this traffic at what is now exactly 7am on a rainy Monday morning in the middle lane of I-71 south towards Cincinnati, entirely surrounded by semis and service trucks

The rain will stop eventually
wildewolves Nov 2018
I drag the blade of this razor across my skin, coaxing out melodies like the strings of a bow across the length of a violin.

I’m a composer now; I’m the whole ******* orchestra — conductor and everything.

I direct the siren song
Katie Oct 2018
If tomorrow I shattered and fell, pieces skimming across dark secrets
Through the thick fog of my broken heart, the damp heat of desperate whispers
Would you gather my jagged edges, and hold me close until you bled?
Drown in that seductive ******, the digging of hard lines into flesh
The intoxicating raw agony like wildfire and the wetness of crimson liquid
It tears at old wounds, gnawing and ******* at bone
A mad beast too long caged, ravishing itself from within

Would you let me mark you with my teeth and tongue?
Rough and hard and lingering
A whimpering plea, breath ghosting over scars
Uncovering the smothering labyrinth of your release
Soothing away shadows of the cold and sharp blade

Would you help me swallow the suffocating lump in my treacherous throat?
Forget the dull fever of words left unsaid
Yearnings buried
Tears of blood left unshed
As the merciless flames tingled beneath weak fingers
Would you bear witness to the raging fire inside me
The warring instincts, the fierce longing to engulf and devour you
Destroy you as you destroyed me
As this toxic void between us became my most exquisite form of torture

Would you let me drown out the numbness?
Fill you with pain, and peace and rage
Slash at your adamant walls, the pillar of steel you’ve become
And banish the biting chill gusting from your icy core

If at dawn my own prison cracked
And the harsh porcelain surface screeched under quaking talons
If the watery depths of the gaping bowl enticed me deeper
And you could see the insatiable itch twitching in my wrist
If you saw nails plunging into my own gullet
Coaxing and tempting the gurgling lava to dry lips
Determined and sinful, like a lovers’ sigh

If you could hear the filthy slap of moist skin, sickeningly ****** in its lethality
And the frenzied spasms of a retching savage
That yields completely to the pounding rhythm
To the animalistic beat of the tribal drum and the eager cave below
If you saw the burning inferno of tears stream down  my cheeks
Would you trace soothing circles upon my back?
Would you lay awake at night, staring emptily at the swirling blackness
Drowning beneath regret and confusion
Skin a flaming wasteland of death
Like I did for you

If they could all see the wretched creatures that cling to me
The incubus that rocks me back and forth
Lulling me to that macabre slumber of death
And whispering sacred screams into lovesick years
My saviour and tormentor, lover and abuser
If they could hear those sickly voices, see earth through my marred eyes
If they could feel the anathema of our thoughts
The loathing and self-hatred
The disgust of one’s own skin
And the monsters closing in
Would they still laugh?

If mother could see the ink sprawled there
Across the overstretched canvas
Of fat stuffed thighs
Each word a puncture, a proud and gaping ****
Would she still dare to strike?

If they knew for themselves
Gluttony itself has a taste
Could feel the poisonous **** slither down throats
And the comforting familiarity of its dead weight
Would they dare meet the molten daggers of my eyes?

If the lifeless blinking light is no longer enough
When the hollow words on screens do nothing
If I grow tired of the scraps you toss me
And the ravenous hunger hatches
Would you join me in destruction?

When both our demons are unleashed
And the skies cry black tears of anguish
When the makeshift smiles finally fade
And we walk among them naked
When they pay for their assumptions
And mother Earth howls for her loss
When angels flee their impending judgement
And there is nothing left but dying embers
Will you sit atop a throne with me
And embrace the madness we once feared?
For M,
You know who you are, and you know me best
bekka walker Aug 27
The way I crave you is not at all passive.
Unlike you.
So calm and reassuring,
Killing me softly as I inhale your warm breath.
Coaxing my anxiety away with masochistic pleasure.
The way I crave you is not at all delightful.
Unlike you.
Stepping outside with me to enjoy the moonlight.
Joining me on chats with a stranger.
The way I crave you is not at all glamorous.
Unlike you.
So beautifully posed up against me,
curling around my hair, framing my sweet face.
...
The way I crave you is full of nicotine and rat poison.
smokes.

I never published this from 2016. I've most generally quit smoking. But still indulge occasionally.  boy, i still love my vices.
Jang Waga Jul 29
“Don’t you dare let go.” She pleaded

“I promise I’ll make this work.” He replied, as his fingers unclasped from her touch and then gripped another woman’s hand


You see
sometimes
people are
mean for no
reason
Giving you the
satisfaction of
half-meant apologies
Genuine lies
coaxing your sincere heart

Give them your flesh and bones
and they become
flesh-eating parasites
thawing their way in and out
of you
leaving nothing
but crumbs of insecurity
for you to feast on
at night

Skinning you by
the words flowing
from their unapologetic
mouths
Digging holes into
the softest spot
of your being

His ego feeding on
the scarcity of your
sanity
A notice of bankruptcy
for your love bank’s almost
empty
A debt loaned by someone
else
And now you are running
errands for it

Chain of promises
frozen into
unexecuted
actions
choking you
as you
fall deeper
into their whims

As a
woman
birthed by
a woman
Your mother
didn’t suffer for
months
for you to become
someone else’s
defense mechanism

Your queen of a mother
didn’t birthed a warrior
only to become
a pawn
in another man’s
game

as a woman
you should know
when to stand your
ground and
when to escape
the crumbling
ground
beneath you

You will never
leave unscathed
but you will
ever
be free

You are born
with a heart of a lion
Recognize it
Embrace it
Because when a lion
preys
It never looses sight
and once it bites
It never lets go
Razor sharp teeth sinking so deep
they would wish so hard
to have never met you
in the first place
With just a bit of coaxing, she would sit up and recite
A poem she'd known since grade school, her eyes so clear and bright

Sometimes she'd need a little nudge to get her to begin.  "When mother puts her apron on", she'd say with a small grin...

...and off she'd go reciting each line flawlessly, with ease
Then when she'd end, her mind would seem to go, as if a breeze
Had ushered it away from us as quickly as it came
And then she wouldn't know the poem, nor anybody's name

But with that came a kind of blessing, at least I know of one
She may not have understood, full well, the loss of Jim, her son
But now, Miss Maudie's free from mortal flesh and bone
And those she loved, who've gone before are welcoming her home

Once more she will caress the man who held her hand in marriage
And now, again she'll hold the son she once strolled in a carriage.

They'll watch us as we travel down this wandering path of life
Rejoicing in our triumphs and supporting us through strife


And we know that they'll be there, waiting on the other side
When at last we've reached the journey's end, of this our earthly ride.
This is an excerpt of the eulogy I wrote for my Great Grand-mother-in law.  She struggled with Alzheimers disease for many years, but handled it with such grace. A true lady.
One day, Dad and Mom find out I'm growing inside.  What a warm, relaxing place to be. Sounds are like echoes, but pleasant to hear. I'm so small, my little heart beats fast like the wings of a hummingbird.

Times passes and I have grown. The sounds, muffled I hear, are getting familiar to me. My little arms have grown and I have fingers. My little legs also have grown and I have toes.  Not as much room to move around though.

A little more time passes and I'm getting uncomfortable, no more room to move. One day, I have an urge to roll so my head is down.  I am getting an urge that something new is going to happen.

Then it happens.  All the warm fluid I have been in leaves me and suddenly I feel like I am being squeezed.  I get a little break, then the squeezing starts again.  I'm being pushed into a small tunnel.  I think, "am I gonna fit?", then the squeezing gets stronger and there are no more breaks.

First my head goes into the black tunnel, wow, so much pressure.  Then I feel one of my shoulders enter the tunnel, wow, so tight.  Then my other shoulder pops into the tunnel.  Sure am happy I developed a bit of a slimy coating, or I would get stuck.

The top of my head is getting cold, I don't understand what is happening to me.  The constant pressure is still there but I only move a little at a time. The outside noises are silent right now.  I feel afraid.

Oh my, lots of pressure and my whole head pops out.  Something is happening to me.  I feel something hard in my nose and my mouth.  Feels like it's going to **** my insides out.  Lot's of really loud noises and the light is too bright, I can't see.

Once more I feel some pressure and my whole body slides out of the tight hole I was in.  As my chest expands, I take in my first breath of air.  All of the sudden, something in my chest takes over and I keep taking in air and blowing it out.  How strange that feels.

Lots of loud talking and someone wraps something warm around me.  I see shapes and shadows.  The person that caught me when I came out put cold things on where I'm attached to my mother.  Then he severs us from each other and I'm taken somewhere else.

I'm really frightened, I start to cry.  What a strange noise, but I can't stop.  Where is my mother, where am I?  Why are they doing all these strange things to me.  I'm in a warm box and my protective coating is getting cleaned off.  Someone is putting something in my eyes, now I really can't see.  Someone is putting something on the lower part of my body, it's staying on.  Someone pulls each of my arms into something warm, they lift my bottom and put my little legs inside.  Then they snap it up, funny popping noises.

Wow, I'm really tired, but my tummy feels funny.  I get wrapped up into a warm blanket and I am brought back to my Mom.  She wraps her arms around me and I can hear her voice and her heartbeat. I feel safe again.   She bares her breast and helps guide my mouth to her milk.  It takes me a little coaxing to latch onto her ******, but when I get a good hold, her warm milk pours into my mouth and I  swallow as fast as I can.  I knew how to swallow while I was inside in my warm fluids.  I drink as much as I can, but now I'm really tired, can't keep my eyes open anymore.

I fall into a peaceful slumber, there in my mother's arms.  Wow, what an adventure. What will I dream about?  Only me and God know that.
Inner thoughts of how the infant feels about birth.
amber Jul 2018
a shiver moves,
throughout my body.

I hear,
your coaxing words,
in my ear.
I see,
your cold lifeless eyes,
in the dark.
I feel,
your steady bony hands,
grappling at my body.

you haunt me,
yet you are not dead.
Nadia Aug 19
I remember the sun kissing our
neon zinc-ed faces, heating tiny cubes
of red track until the rubber,
warm to the touch, clung to resting
palms and thighs.

I remember the smell of watermelon,
hot dogs and gatorade mingling with
the acrid smoke of the starter’s pistol
and the feral horde of butterflies
fighting in my stomach each time
the gun would blast.

I remember ghosts of friends from
back then sharing laughs as
we warmed up, muscles strong,
nerves tight, bravado bared to all.

I remember his folding chair,
right there at the end of every race,  
rain or shine, he showed up, coaxing
tired bones out of his favourite
recliner and into his giant, blue
oldsmobile, the interior littered
with cigarette holes and
werthers candies; he showed up
with pride, without fail.

I remember overhearing the boys
talk about the old man smoking
by the finish line, how gross it was
and why was he even there anyway,
and I remember shame taking root
and spreading: I knew the old man
was there for me.

I remember the day I stopped running
through the ribbon, straight to that
striped chair, to that time bowed man,
with his precisely combed white hair,
wearing ironed jeans, wrinkles
and a smile that could charm anyone.

I remember his funeral, not long after,
sitting in a room stained with
dust, tears and time arrested;
shame and sadness lodged heavy in
my throat as I wished for just one
more chance to say I love you.
I went to my first poetry workshop today. This came out of nowhere; I didn't even realize the baggage I've been hauling around for years.
niamh Sep 15
Did you hold her hand tightly
As you walked through the woods?
Waiting for the day to end
So we might join you.
The filtered sunlight
Warms your ageless skin;
So warm
Skin so cold.
Your voice echoes within my heart
And hurts my jealous ears.
A snapping branch of reality
Coaxing tears from the secret place.
The forest is vast
But the trees are not endless.
I will meet you at sunset.
And wonder at you once more.
And wander with you once more.
Thomas Bodoh Nov 2018
Thank you for asking all the hard questions
that I tried to answer but you never believed me

Thank you for that ring you dropped into my bag
the golden one with the intertwined hearts

Thank you for making me love the wrong way
each glance like someone that doesn't hug back

Thank you for darkening the sky over my head
with your horrible grinning and coaxing and breathing

Thank you for begging me to tell you what's wrong
so I can fashion a fantasy of black hoodies and grief

Thank you for letting my lie to your face
slipping through my teeth under lips with a smile

Thank you for making my poetry crumble and
become rambling lines about love

and other awful things
that kind of don't
matter when
it gets
down
to
it
George Anthony Dec 2018
you were born on the cusp of spring,
a breath of warm sunlight
coaxing bright life back into
dark husks of wilted stems
and barren souls in need of bloom.

i died the day i came to life.
a beginning amidst the beginning
of the end. four days of stuttering heartbeats later,
i was hurried home under a heavy sky
of god’s tears and thick cloud

your eyes are sick with grief in winter;
i think your chest aches to heal
the fragile, frosted frills of flowers
that suffered and struggled
and surrendered to the cold

you are burdened by empathy
for the crumpled caskets lining the flowerbeds,
impatient for a fresh start
so you can refresh these corpses
into new life. new roots
and petals flourishing in the image of your beauty

you are a god i could worship.
you are a god i could believe in.
you are a creator of life, and colour, and new starts
you created happiness within me,
so i can only hope to do the same for you

i, dead the day i came to life,
belated winter baby with blue lips, blue veins
am alive for perhaps the first time in years
sleepy, but still awake—breathing, blooming
as if spring came early just to kiss the feeling back into my fingertips



a fistful of sunflowers clenched tight,
and with you by my side
my chest is set alight
with a sun’s ray of hopefulness
that the day will eradicate the night.
I stand on trial
in a spherical, tightly wired world
enclosed in a wooden, sun bleached box
formed from unintentional ignorance
and mishaps that stem from the inability to change,
details of my charge:
attempting to establish my personal identity
in which I am colorful and sprout wings to take flight
and my footsteps trace to the ends of the earth and back
during the day I soak up people's laughter and smiles like a sunflower bathing in sunlight
and throughout the night I sleep comfortably in a bed of warm solitude underneath the stars
I'm perhaps guilty of knocking on my senses
to think outside the box
and am mischievous enough to peer into other's
enclosed spaces, coaxing out the best in them
like a magician wielding shimmering flowers
out of his sleeve
I am charged for distinguishing distortions
and painful black and white misconceptions from reality
and its diverse colorful rays of magnitude and life
I believe something along the lines that
not everything is what it seems to be,
but instead we're all flowers
who need to be nourished and watered each day
as weird as it sounds,
I'd like for my tears to mean something
during the trial, which I hope will pass quickly enough
for the wind to ****** and carry away
03/16/19

Written upon being questioned on what crimes I may be charged with.
TD Jul 2018
Following a whetted sigh
leisurely indolent green beams.
Sloth-lidded in sleep so sweetly hummed
as life drenched the waxen leaves.
He awakens from lethargy.
A banquet waits at his nodding feet
hidden beneath widespread arms.

Virescent shivers part
sculpting clouds of broken images.
Florid fauna soaks in her sunny grin.
Awash with luscious shadows
her freckled light becomes a stroking pen.
She writes her story on the mind
of sprites and staring wooden eyes.

Darker viridescent fingers beckon
nestled in the crooks of rooted limbs
coaxing a sullen fawn to rest
below all lofty promises.
Dampened lips faded, curve gently
surrounding the slumbering form
a secret gift for her pleasure.
The texture of a full-bodied swill
inviting a hooded gaze.

The sun knows her covert suitor..
She'll be the first to tell you--
he is--some kind of green.
Think of the layers of the forest, one easily accessible--the other a hidden gem. Who does she long for the most? The one embracing her openly or the one waiting in silent adoration? You choose. The forest floor layer is rarely reached by sunlight. About 2 percent of sunlight reaches the floor layer. The emergent layer receives the most sunlight.  Rather than being inspired by green leaves singularly, I kind of became involved with the play of greenery in summer as a whole.
Lily Madden Apr 10
words from a conversation we had days ago echo in my mind turning into a lullaby, softly coaxing my eyelids shut. welcoming deep sleep to my weary heart.
each part of our souls intertwine to create a perfect panoply facilitated by the moon.
you and i under the same sky, all of a sudden the displeasures from the day before slowly melt away into the dark nighttime.
in the syzygy of our cosmic hearts we bask in the ethereal glow encompassed comfortably by the stars and moons.
involved in a state of a constant somnambulism so i never have leave the blissful reality conceived in my subconscious.
dreamers indulgence, walking hand in hand, free and filled with halcyon in the safety of sleep.

— The End —