"interject" poems
We find multiple ways to disconnect
Where business and technology intersect
We kick one another for cash
When we need equilibrium for our economy
Our morals disintegrate to ash
And we trade away our autonomy
But we don't dare reflect
Instead we disconnect
We turn people into symbols and numbers
So we can more comfortably slumber
After causing heartbreaking pain
Through bureaucratic chains
Because face to face
Our heart will race
And we'll examine our submerged morals
That lie in the depths with the coral
But our reflection is too much to bear
So we cowardly choose not to care
The only way we can feel ecstatic
Is to turn people into demographics
The Internet connects us
But also satisfies lust
And imitates human contact
Which has a negative impact
The feeling leaves us sated
And we don't feel the need to change
Our armor becomes plated
And we shoot arrows from long range
Because we don't like the idea of being one another
We get used to the idea of not seeing one another
We disconnect so we don't have to try
We disconnect so we can slowly die
The ****** disconnection continues
As we find more violent avenues
We utilize fatal instruments
To ****** without the sense
Of physically feeling
The life we're stealing
We stabbed one another with swords
Until the bullets soared
But we still needed more
So we disconnected further
And became satellite searchers
Studying people through actions
Defining them by faction
We don't have any interest in their personality or flaws
All we're concerned with is if they're breaking the law
The law we wrote to tip the scales
The law that makes us too big to fail
A husband leaves his wife
Disconnecting from her life
She's left with a child
To raise in the wild
Until a drone drops a bomb
On the struggling single mom
She's not an investor
So we'll just harvest her worthless life
Who'll be her protector
When she's near someone we don't like?
We **** her from our computer
That's the way we casually mute her
We carefully cultivated a disconnect
To treat one another like insects
This mentality will infect
Until we interject
Once we finally reflect
Love will connect
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC
I'm many coloured
and a perfect transcriber
and transmitter.
I only listen,
And do not interject.
Whatever you say or write,
I record faithfully.
At times, you may think
I read your mind
While it's in the clouds,
That's autocorrect,
But you push send.
I'm the perfect ear,
The ideal partner.
I'll never willingly repeat
Your heard and spoken secrets.
You're the human.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
My mother enters the kitchen, says that her hands
are dripping, begs my father to finish his work
at the sink. I observe, for a moment, the expression
upon her face which seems conflicted between
a desire to laugh and a need
to feel clean.
I interject that clearly her fate is to have
dog placenta on her hands for all eternity.
Her disgust and amusement seem equally to rise.
After she has washed herself, she speaks of
Ponyo's last intermission between long
intervals of birthing to nap three fleeting minutes;
another contraction gave way to a wriggling
new mole who squeaked and groaned with
bizarre endearment, seizing my heart and causing
its mother's head, after jolting awake,
to go limp.
Mom says it's sad-but-sweet. Dear dog
has spent herself six times already in increments
which, as they increase, draw her spirit still closer
to a totally inevitable chasm of fled energy;
as soon as she falls asleep, yet a new indignant mass
of living parts swaddled in loose skin and wet fur
shoves its way outward, forward, world-ward.
Ponyo is not selfish. Immediately after birth seven,
she begins to lick her offspring clean and nudge it
towards her belly, where it may feed itself.
"Only just got a break, and already she's
back to work."
I'm one of five children my mother has carried
and raised--and for a human, five are many!
I'm afraid to give birth even once, despite
that a greater want of mine is to hold
my own child someday. I wonder if that
is motherhood: discomfort and indecision
concerning the worth of the effort in labor,
in birth, in the weak moments thereafter--
stroking one's child's downy, collapsible head
and feeling a need to protect her, to nurture her,
that is more pressing even than the so-
alluring whispers which Sleep may breathe--
and even beyond these moments, when I have said
to my mother that I hate her (because
to me, it was obvious that I did not,
and was too callous, obtuse, and insensitive
to think that she might just believe it)
and then missed church the next day to stay
with her when she felt ill and tired--if this
is motherhood, I wonder. It must be more even
than I could ever have thought like wanting
to laugh and to wring one's hands
(and even just to go to sleep)
all at once.
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
The frustration
Do these feelings only flow through ink?
Oh what a bursting soul
that devours its own love
inside such a collapsing frame
That desire for touch, the affection that transcends
the droning life of our spinning globe
So insatiable; so confused
Those lips were always a different being than the others
Your path to interject into my timidly drifting course
It burned the maps ever drawn up
The only route from here on was ultimately to the conjured fantasy
of a glorious victory for your love
How idiotic; why is it you?
I, such a wandering pawn in our time's game
to see a magical land in your eyes
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say?
Forget it—never mind,
You wouldn’t understand anyway,
Would you even know what it's like?
Inside a scattered disconnected mind,
Employed to go on strike?
Where indirect misdirect
The sincerity at play,
When sinusoidal chaos spikes
And past meets the future present day?
As paranoid points outlandishly connect
At intervals of broken lines,
Memory lost in recollect,
An array of misshaped bells
Internally infect the eternal confines
Of infinite distributional decay,
Parallels with no intersect,
Streetwise cells with empty signs,
Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines,
Littered all the way.
How am I to convey that all those times
You let your mind wander away
That I was reading, thinking, dreaming,
Teeming, never idle, never strayed,
Seeing, being, so far and away,
Even the brightest intellect beaming,
Could not grasp the feeling
In the slightest of highest orders reeling,
Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming,
Imperfect, even to the disarray
Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict
Could not predict the reflect,
For in this world, seeing is deceiving,
As the lamest reject, defect,
Increasingly decreasing,
In simplistic bliss obey
Crowned unsound fallacies
That contradict all meaning,
Hiding behind reality, the actualities
Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving,
Let me stop you if I may...
I must interject for I digress,
What nonsense was I weaving?
Forget it—I've lost my mind,
I best be leaving,
What more can I say?
It's periodic I must confess,
You probably don't care anyway,
Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay,
Until next time I guess,
I wouldn't want to be misleading.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
you keep tripping on eachothers feet
and I'm just watching, wanting to fix it all
but my solution is merely mine, not your intention
and as we dine, you look in her eyes
this is the part that I despise
and I can feel the heat, every tap, every beat
my racing heart and my ice cold glare
breaks you two, eachothers stare
you fall to pieces, the tension so strong
you know I've held on way too long
and you're just tripping on eachothers feet
so much confusion
my desire is not her solution
and you feel my cold stare, my dead eyes
breaking you in two
to think that it could have been just me and you
I crack your voice as I interject
you see me tearing
so you fall to pieces, the tension so strong
because you know I've held on way too long
and you two keep tripping on each others feet
tripping as I watch
wanting to dance into my sense of defeat
by her I've been beat
and her satisfaction now tears me
her satisfaction is what wears me
and you know I feel it, you feel it too
so then I run, grab you, and sob
and before you said goodbye
I watched you try to grab the dinner check
but your cash went short
so you only covered her meal
and I swear this mustn't be real
and by now I'm trying to hold back, no more tears
I almost did crack watching you two
this was my biggest fear
because I wanted to dance with you
or simply the clarity that this is through
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 1:37 PM UTC
A crowded room, I just dance, finding solice beneath the mask.
Friends they chatter laugh and squee, every one enjoying humanity.
Pulse is racing, words they vanish I can't stand this.
I wish I could join the crowd and interject some interlect.
Instead the panic steals the magic and now its to late, oh woe is my fate.
Stuck inside my own head, is it time yet for my bed?
Slip away quietly drinking my sobriety, hoping that next time my courage will win and I can finally play my part, instead of dancing in the dark.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
You mustn't
always interject,
for it is not more auspicious
to be considered a Fool
than to affirm such suspicions,
is it not?
Defer unto thy knowledgeable peers
and, if ye be Sage among the Like,
thou shall be deferred unto.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Breathe in the freshness
of the arduously picked commodity,
That you hold between your lacquered fingers.
Don’t let synthetic ingredients
dissolve your thoughts
and obscure your vision.
The liquid remedy we sip is drenched,
With pain and protracted nurturing
Carefully fostered
through inclement weather
drink in the story that comes with it
That fuels caffeinated conversations.
Refined and defined leaving us blind
to the painted secrets of lives that were once lead
different lives intersect,
different thoughts and opinions interject.
Leaving lipstick kisses on the porcelain skin
Sipping away worries and pain.
Inhaling the smell of impelling advice,
fragments of sugar coated anecdotes melt,
integrating within, interfering
with the raw, strong, sharp taste
that can pierce through.
the rare intense, earthy aftertaste
is tainted with artificial garnishing,
suffocating the fresh natural essence
neatly contained in the teacup
ready to serve and ready to present
taking shape of the porcelain guise
Don’t sprinkle it with processed collaborations
of sugared doubt,
Contaminating your imagination
Manipulated by dainty voices
Resonating in your head
Like the delicate teacup
You anchor with your soft hands
Weighed down by the overly sweetened tea.
No longer holding significance
of the vast fresh fields it sprouted from
Forgotten and drowned
in the voices of someone else’s drum beat.
cloudy vision reflected in the saturated tonic
you sip elegantly, pasting a smile
suppressing your own desires,
under someone else's acceptance.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
You’d have better luck storing rain in your mouth
Steadying quiet clouds with your eyes
Alive
Mere perfection doesn’t exist I see
No
And the cake is a lie
It’s the desire to interject
And infuse
Which I push against
Yourself insinuating from which I hide
This look says me
Let me feel my feelings felt
Or else there is no point left alive
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 11:31 AM UTC
O LOVE! O LOVE! WHY ARE YOU EVER DEVOID OF LOGIC?
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Mankind in its pathetic folly entice you in a dint of stupor
Knowing not your true colour and texture
Endeavoring to achieve glory in your mastery
With the so limited human capacity
In grey faith that you are a cradle of bliss
But O love! Why are you ever crooked?
Young men and women in strength of their sinews
Toil day and night in ******* of humanity
Praying and whining incantations with the hope for optimal love
Ornamenting their bodies with diamond and bronze
Fibre and silk ornamented to helm of providence
In the foolish quest for love equillibria
But in full stretch of your vice, you impish love
You catapult all away to the shifted goal posts
O love! O love! Why are you ever ruthless?
You hate the learned but you favour the strong
You hate professors but you favour the soldiers
You hate the rich but you favour the agile
You hate the lawyers but you favour the footballers
You hate the pastors but you favour the ruffian
You hate the whites but you favour the Negroes
You hate the groomed but you love the ragamuffin
You hate the chaste but you favour the mistress
O love! O love! Why are you ever illogical?
Love, I revere you for wickedness and irrationality
In all of your history you scored sum *** laude
In the duo as blend of your domain, Look;
You never dwell in a genuine companionship
You like where the couth will interject;
Amidst fornication between married and single ones
Amidst adultery in the triangle of foul compassion
Amidst miscegenation between black and white
Amidst infatuation between the whole and the lame
Amidst conjugal appetite between the old and the young
Amidst concupiscence between house master and houshelp
Amidst immorality of married master over the wallowing servant
Amidst libidos between literate teacher unto the peasant pupil
Amidst disordered passion among the sly lesbians
Amidst impious ********** among the suave gays
O love! O love! You are the most wicked force!
Love I am told; your colour is red
You may be red or you may not be red
But all in all, you deserve poetical veneration
For your herculean ability to bend the most wise;
In your force you made sagacious Shakespeare to bend
In your force you made Princes Diana to bend and bend
Bending downwardly stooping for Afawoyed the moor,
In your stupefying dint you made Napoleon de Bonaparte
To bend and bend downwardly stooping for Josephine
Josephine a famed she-Casanova in the gone Paris
Among the then humanity and the then animality,
In your impairing machinery you set sons on their fathers
In the roman empire of Antony and Ceaser
In the scramble for Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen
Beauty of her aquiline nose heavily hovered perhaps
In the eyes of the Roman beholders
The father and the son only to sent the empire
To the love forlorn smithereens!
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
in the grass lingering
subtle. new life, seeks.
life over distractions
will you buy attentions? for me?
i could try and persuade interjections
to interject anomalies. false.
in decay, blooming
death. closer than your mother.
unaware of the scythe
speechless.
despite selection
phrasing perpetually
simply put, arrogance
tests my limits. carefully.
picking out life from death
a masterful game. monotonous.
does the truth betray your senses?
do your eyes smell?
deliverance. ignorance for innocents.
there are millions. billions.
unstoppable.
watch my back. we’ll both die.
a rip in sound. feel the throat churn.
erratic vibrations disorient the world
they cannot understand us.
poisoned perception of the native mind
in struggle. in war.
recovering and failing the same.
thieving the motions. motionless.
all to achieve deplorable fame
dreadful.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
If you let this architect interject
My subject you'll dissect effectively correct
I'll try to make it clear
If you inspect or introspect with intellect these indirect
Pretentious scribbles misdirect
Collect your wits my dear
If you elect I'll be direct
No intended disrespect
I don't expect that you'll reject
A change of atmosphere
If you accept I won't defect you mustn't reflect this henpecked insects unchecked neglect
Tonight with luck I'll in fact infect
You with a grin from ear to ear
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
When you interfere, I get an inner fear, that You should not be here
But You interject, and I recollect
The resolve You test, you know what's best
You insist, and I resist
To keep You at bay, in the same callous way
I won't let won't let you in, I can't let you win
To solidify my sin, the kind aside from religion, apart from illusion
Adultery of the Spirit
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
we are all digging graves
under some distant hazy
sunset,
somewhere,
anywhere.
the sun never really truly sets.
so what is left to
interject with when
anyone says something
about suffering
having no
end?
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 12:10 AM UTC
She was smoked
salmon so spread
Like his creme of
the crop
Smoking hot circles
0-0 0______No-No
The points... Dots
And shoe size petite___-
The whole website
To love and honor
Whats in her moves
The private Dancer
May I never be dropped
To be overly loved
I am not asking for more
The score more or less
can be
The greatest dancer
O yes, so many pretenders?
More spread like_______
Mr ((Mayonaise__meeting
Handsomely Hellman
Falling into your
embrace Tango-Tie
I- Apple creme pie
to phone U
May I tango 4-U
Sweet lips of mango
Don't shed one tear
Listen to what is said?
How her dance step
to be read
next year to be wed
Like your hot rods
and hubcaps near
your bed choices
To sweep me off my
feet well said
The tango soprano voices
The Hub
Rubbing my
dancer's feet his treat
Wildflower Salsa beat
Emotional dance
The Tango
Graphically
Cool______ design
Contacts to sign
To his excitement
Steps are well
worth
the dividends
Drinking tapas
The fine tip of gratis
Sign sealed and
dance delivered
In an instant
dancing contract
Two bodies dance
as one__________*
Flaming intertwined
Brazilian Silky- hair
Mr. May-0 tango pair
Mr. Hellman
merci beaucoup
His desires came with the loop
The mixture mango scoop
May-0, not the May Day
No clouds passing
in grays
So festive never passive
Well made beaded
Peacock Miss Marrietta
The Birds of the feather
Expression of sensual faces
To impress the right man
Distinctly dressed
Explanation point
May I interject my
point______________
Tropical sandals high-point
Tango dancers have a
the certain way
The lovely maiden
Names day and age
Eyes engage contest page
He to her side fancy
May- 0 in her Prime
(Hello)
Another Day-Oh!
Don't move her dancer
days to sail away
Sea breeze perfect per day
Her fancy dancer
shoes not on
layaway
* * * * *
In the now a dancer
nowadays taking flight
Every day always
the dancer's way
You Amaze so blessed
Like your possessed
* * * *
Titans in a blaze
How it may arise
He was dancing to her
movement ****** salsa
To her toes up to her
Tango lips amazing dips
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
I'm hemorrhaging
Bleeding confidence
Hollow and deprived
Striving to survive
Caught between my apathy and dismay
Severing the life I once carried within me
Fill up my lungs with decay
And pretend in a usual way
I'm hemorrhaging
Time to switch veins
Here I am a zombie
Is this how Jesus felt?
Was once alive striving to help
Now walking dead forgotten on a shelf
Cast aside and sentenced
An empty room in which to reflect
A concentration camp
Please, do not interject
The chokee as she called it
With all do respect
I get sentenced to this place
A place to resurrect
The sentences are what I fear
Revolving in my head
They tickle trace and mock my face
PLEASE DO NOT INTERJECT
time to switch lanes, veins, valence, evade...
oxygen in my head
The oxygen
in my
brain
Hemorrhaging
The vain
vane
vein
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 6:47 AM UTC
He dusted off the old rocking chair
& asked me to have a seat
He'd tell me what he was doing there
If I'd simply take a load off my feet
I found this gesture laughable
I would rather stand!
Then listen to another word
Uttered by this despicable Man!
But His confidence eluded Him
He knew I would protest
& yet I saw Him conceal a grin
At the denial of His request!
At this point, I couldn't even move
I could barely breathe
He acknowledged my discomfort, said,
"Very well" & took the seat!
As He sat there callously,
Scoping out the room
He said He just could not believe
The daffodils won't bloom!
This absurdity helped catch my breath
I quickly snapped to interject,
**** the flowers! **** this place!"
& turned to flee with great hast!
This made Him chortle with much glee
He barked, "Silly, girl, you cannot leave! I know you've known this all along, The Cottage is where your Soul belongs!"
I felt so angry I could cry
I hit my knees & pleaded: "WHY?!
I kicked You out so long ago! Don't speak to me as if You know!"
& this is where the story twists:
He dropped His grin & stood up quick
Now, controlled by His brown eyes
Forced to hear His every lie:
"I know that we have been apart, But that's no excuse to neglect your heart, & that is why I'm here again, to protect you from yourself, My friend..."
& that's the moment I lost my mind
To hear Him call me "friend"
As if His love, I could deny!
(So, instead, I was forced to pretend)
But He already knew my tricks
We played this game before
All this time Our stubbornness
Is the very quality We adored!
So, while He tried to lecture me
I quickly stoked a match
I had laced The Cottage previously
& dropped it on a kerosine-soaked mat!
& as I laughed maniacally
at the seconds we had left
To my surprise He grinned idly
As We slowly burned to death...
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
It's not you it's me,
I'm sorry this is how I be,
It's just I have to protect,
I know how some girls think and if I must, I will interject,
I have to keep an eye out and keep what's mine, just that,
I know it looks like I'm checking on you,
But in all realness it's karma getting me for a past do,
It’s not about you; it's about the deeds I've done,
Coming back around and making me a paranoid one,
I apologized for hurting your feelings,
It was not my intention, with my sneaky dealings,
I've never felt the way I do about you with anyone else,
Finding out that I'm not believing that I deserve it myself,
A constant debate rolls through my mind,
Reasons to believe and also deny that it's the true kind,
I say again it's not you it's me,
I wouldn't have given you my heart if I didn't trust you, trust me,
I never think of what you’re doing is wrong, when you’re not with me,
But I know how tempting the world can seem and what it's like getting away with ****** deeds,
I feel bad for hurting you,
I don't understand why I do what I do,
I just know I don't want to lose you,
Never, for no reason is good enough for me,
And I just want to let you know I appreciate you,
Everything you do for me I just want to say I love you.
Love, me.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
The plaza is filled with creeps
Sitting along the concrete
***** smelly feet
Untrustworthy gas station meat
I lean up against the wall
See a man who's very tall
Beside an old lady who's about to fall
Granny stumbles around, dazed and confused
Doesn't even know which pills to choose
Asks tall guy which ones to take
Guy blows her off like candles on a cake
I interject, "Can I help you, ya old hag?"
Gran gran then opens the bag
I gaze upon the pills
The entire pack is filled
Stuff like this could go for many dollar bills
Granny says, "I need my Tuesdays."
I tell her, "Lady do you even read due dates?"
I don't know gran, you're on your own
You're gonna hafta figure this one out alone
Bus rolls up an somethins queer
Some pretty sketchy characters filling up the rear
So I take a seat up front, straight up Rosa parks
Weirdos left an right with their ****** birth marks
Guys with beards so long they could choke a man with em
Mexi with a **** two others smokin with him
Many oddities line all up and down the bus
So I turn my frown upside down and try not to cuss
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
It's 3 am
again
I hate that word... again
it feels so certain
so absolute
that I might never sleep... again
see?
that's why I hate it
and the way the walls feel too close together
as though they could be listening
slowly compressing the doorway to the bedroom
so that it would be impossible to pass through
that I might never climb between the soft warmth of those covers
again...
thick carpet is curling up between my toes
tickling the tired soles of my feet as I pace
again
passing through the hallway towards the kitchen
lurking shadows of appliances of which the tasks seem to escape me
the gleam of lights on their many polished surfaces
strolling through the living room
open window letting in the night breeze to kiss against the skin I have not covered
again
I cross paths with the coffee table
narrowly avoiding its sleek edges that interject into my nightly obstacle course so stealthily
pausing in the single bathroom to admire
if only briefly
reflected light across her shoulders
curve of her back
down towards her waist and toes
the color of eyes in darkness
the shape of her face and nose
how sweet
how dark, mysterious
quiet, brooding
thoughtful that girl seems to be
depending on the time of night
light from the moon across her face
we meet again
again..
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
don’t interupt the cello
as it sings harmony.
just sit back in your chair and let the notes ring.
the violin in your hand?
let it rest on your knee.
but the question which is always a question for me:
when does one gain the confidence
to weave a melody?
*if we were meant to stay silent,
then why do we have strings?*
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
sometimes i watch
the way that smoke curls up
from a lighted cigarette
and i want to hold it in my hands and
curl my lips around it
like the indie rocker boy
who’s been staring at my friend from the corner.
but the tar burns my lungs
and i am too vain for yellow teeth and yellow fingertips
and yellow eyes and black organs.
i miss the way that you paid attention to me.
you would be humming and
pretending to be working and
i would say one word and
you would stop pretending and listen.
unless you had your guitar out.
nothing could come between you and your music
and i could never come between you and her
so i never even tried.
coming in second was never really my style,
you know that.
so i watched you watch me watch you feeling the music
until you gave up trying to read my mind and
told me yours with the chords you played
and i miss that.
i miss the organized chaos that erupted from your fingertips
that were not yellow like indie rocker’s
who is now hitting on my friend
because you always said that
smoking was for losers,
which is probably right
if indie rocker is anything to go by.
he’s nodding my friend away to a corner
and we all know how the night will end.
i will have to interject and bring her home
and he will scowl at me
because she is the prettiest girl in the room
and no one can take their eyes off of her.
she’s lovely in the way i always wanted to be
but never could attain
and i guess that i’ll just wait
for another heartbroken punk kid who
needs a shoulder to cry on.
he’s usually indie rocker’s friend
and he always wants to smoke.
and it’s going to be two in the morning soon
and i am sitting here in this place
thinking about someone who already left me.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
Some things they tell you
When enlightenment is bleak
With hardly any at all love can be discreet
Heard you before when life was a mess.
Processing now and it's hard to digest
So much lost time and regret
Too numb now to let ourselves to get upset.
Too late now for anyone to interject
Alas no cure the pain of reject
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 10:07 PM UTC
A stallion pure and thorough bred
With sinewy limbs and a regal head
Entranced a maiden: coy, fragile
Her naïveté peeking through her guile
The touch of skin on skin, ablaze
The arching back, the dreamy gaze
Oblivious to the world around
When hearts were lost and hearts were found
They rode around without a care
With hair afloat a back stripped bare
Through wind and water, sky and sand
They trod the depth and breadth of land
Love melding with the sunset's hues
With ochres, crimsons, lilacs, blues
She held him firm as 'e sprinted on
Her hands alive on 'is rippling brawn
Both breathless, panting, fit to drop
By a trove of aspen, came to stop
They laid down on the cooling grass
And watched the stars in heaven's pass.
The moments' magic, in their midst
Where gift of fate their presence kissed
The sound of stillness filled the air
To interject , neither could dare
In the conversations of the souls
No words suffice, nor phrases hold
Each secret there that instant shared
All love exchanged, and none was spared.
By the morning sun, came duty's hail
And both knew what devoirs entail
To be with each , although they longed
Of different earths, their loam belonged
They thought, they planned, they tried devise
But union came at a selfish price
In a firm embrace they held on tight
Accepting it was a time not right
And bravely to departure led
Through aching ******* good byes were said
A part of each, with the other sent
For a farewell isn't where love should end
So holding on their transformed heart
On the stage of life, resumed their part
And each then took their separate way
no matter what, wherever they stay
for rest of time, they had had that day
for rest of time, they had had that day!
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 9:01 AM UTC